


Growing Pains

by khelgui



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Eventual Romance, Family Drama, Fatherhood, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Single Parents, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 07:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 69,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12765798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khelgui/pseuds/khelgui
Summary: Hyukjae, the good-for-nothing college dropout, finds a little girl behind his door, and it appears that there’s no one else to turn to but his old childhood friend.





	1. One

. . one . .

 

 

 

Hyukjae wakes up to a familiar yet disturbing sensation down on his stomach. 

 

His head doesn’t feel any better, and even after so long, the painful throbs only seem to get worse every time. His heavy eyelids finally open after a struggle, and he sees how the darkness is already fading as the sun starts to arise in the far horizon. The air feels stuffy as he takes a short breath in. He tries to get his stiff body into a sitting position, but the movement makes his head spin, and the coldness of the room causes shivers run down his bare arms. He can’t recognize the room he is in. He can’t remember the name of the person who’s snuggled beside him under a thick cover, and he can’t really grasp which neighborhood he has stumbled to. 

 

It’s hazy. Every detail is wrapped into a big vortex of memories and brief flashbacks of the garbled night filled with hard liquors, loud music, flashing neon lights, ominous whimsies and girls who think they can get him on his knees with their sloppy kisses.

 

But it’s nothing new.

 

Hyukjae has already lost count how many times it has happened. It’s more of a rule than an exception these days.

 

There’s one thing that catches his train of thought when he’s about to get out of the bed though. He halts on the edge, dangling his head downwards—feeling like a bomb is ticking inside at the back of it—trying to reach the jeans lying messily on the floor. He remembers the distant, penetrating sound of his ringtone that kept bothering him as they were halfway into the steamy act, around the time when his eyes drifted towards the red numbers of the digital radio placed on top of the nightstand, showing it was 1:12am at one point, and 1:42am the other.

 

Hyukjae isn’t sure why, but the sound managed to distract him way more than he liked. The words harder and faster were continuously moaned under him every time he was about to grab the device only to turn it off, but the sound echoing in his ears always broke his focus.

 

The first pocket is empty, but from the second he’s able to pull his phone out. He takes a quick peek of the young woman sleeping behind his back—a brunette it seems—and returns his attention to the screen which brightness causes his eyes to hurt. As he reaches out for his t-shirt, Hyukjae notices the seven unanswered calls, and three text messages. Two of the calls are made by his friend who accompanied him as per usual to their habit, and the rest are from an unknown number.

 

He then starts to remember the first call which came during their second round of vodka shots; around 10pm, when they were sitting at the bar talking bullshit and flirting with the pair of younger girls sitting at the opposite side of the counter.

 

Hyukjae doesn’t give a second thought who the caller would be, when he’s already running through the text messages. It doesn’t surprise him that the oldest is also from his drinking buddy, telling him that he had gotten the girl he wanted. The second is a bit inappropriate picture—most likely about the same girl—and it immediately makes the man smirk a little. But the last one is from the same, unknown number, and what puzzles him more are the simple four words, without any kind of a signature.

 

we need to talk

 

In his mind, he tries to go through all the people who could have something to say for him. There are, however, probably more than a dozen of people who he has screwed with, more or less, but none of them rings any bell.

 

And because of that, he lets the matter go, having no interest to unnecessarily dig deeper into the matter.

 

The brunette on the other side of the bed gives out a quiet moan in her sleep, and Hyukjae knows it’s time to go. He picks his boxers and socks from the floor as quietly as he’s able to, unaudibly groaning when the headache clearly seems to not want to leave him alone. Stumbling to get his clothes on as fast as he is capable while having a hangover, he steals a last glance of the clock; 6:59am, and he wants nothing more but to go home and sleep off the terrible nausea.

 

The door creaks slightly when he presses down the metallic handle, and steps into the hallway. There’s nothing to look at because he doesn’t care to remember any of it, and it doesn’t take longer than a minute for him to get out of the tiny apartment. And at the same time the door closes after him, Hyukjae’s already contemplating if it would be a bus or a subway ride home from wherever the hell he is. 

 

 

It’s near to an hour later when he finally steps out of the bus, and he thinks next time he should pick a one-night stand a little closer to home.

 

 

A leather jacket is left lying on the floor next to a half empty water bottle settled on top of a random pile of dvds. Two emptied ramen cups are abandoned on a small, painted wooden box that is trying to occupy as a coffee table. The vertical blinds are almost fully closed, but rays of late afternoon sun still manage to glimmer through it. The apartment is messy, old, and certainly 'designed' with a heavily manly touch, yet for Hyukjae it's still something called home.

 

A hand is placed over the bridge of his nose, eyes closed under the touch. The same weary feeling is there, lingering. His stomach is growling for something unhealthy, greasy fast food, but he's too lazy to do anything about it. It's been a while already since he woke up, but he's still rooted on the same couch he fell asleep on when he returned home some hours ago.

 

The dyed light brown strands of his hair are a bed head at its finest, as he runs his fingers through it and lets out a tired sigh. For some reason, his aching head has been buzzing with thoughts about this and that ever since. It's nothing in particular, but at the same time, too much of everything.

 

He just had so much fun last night.

 

Or did he, really?

 

Why is he even thinking something like that? Of course he had fun with Taehyung, his official let's-get-wasted and sexed-up co-company team mate. Yet a certain feeling of brokenness doesn't leave him alone, but actually gets worse time after time. For his own sake, he usually ignores it. It's more than likely just the alcohol leaving his body that makes him feel overly emotional.

 

His almond eyes drift to stare at the ceiling, and an older song starts to play quietly in his head. Hyukjae thinks he must have heard it the night before, back at the bar, and hearing it makes him reminisce a night back in the past as well. The memory is bittersweet, but for a moment the familiar, bubbly laugh he's associated with the song makes him think about the one whom it belonged to.

 

He shakes his head in disbelief, and finally sits up on the burgundy colored couch to grab the water bottle to have something to drink because his mouth feels like sandpaper. But just before he manages to reach it, a noise echoes inside his apartment.

 

It's silent; sounding a lot like the maker of it is being very uncertain, but it's definitely a sound he recognizes.

 

In the same careful manner the doorbell shortly rings again.

 

The man halts on his place to listen and to cautiously glare the front door he’s able to see straight from his living room. Few seconds pass before he actually makes to stand and walk towards the door. Thoughts fly to and fro inside his head, and he’s not so sure if he wants to know who it could be. There’s no reason for him to feel anxious, but something about facing the unknown behind his door terrifies him today.

 

It’s probably just Taehyung. He must have lost his wallet again.

 

Hyukjae’s legs feel heavy as he steps forward. Having only some black, worn-out skinny jeans on, he decides to pick a loose, gray hoodie from the hamper on his way. His hair is sticking out to every cardinal point and the yesterday’s spontaneous decision to put on some eyeliner has probably exploded, most likely being smudged around by now, so he really hopes it’s no one too important.

 

A wary inhale is taken when the door opens. But there’s no one. Furrowing his brows hard the brunet shrugs and closes the door. It could have been a neighbor’s bell – the walls are thin as paper anyway.

 

His stomach gives him another needy growl, and Hyukjae’s about to finally go get some food, but the noise happens again; and now he’s sure that it is not his neighbor’s door.

 

God damn it, he huffs inaudibly, glaring the door in despise.

 

He will definitely kick Taehyung’s ass very hard if this is one of his stupid and childish jokes again, but he consents and returns the few steps to get the door open – again.

 

Still, no one.

 

He’s about to curse out loud when he takes a look behind his door—just in case that the twat would be hiding there—but he gets the shock of his life, when instead of his stupid brick of a friend, it’s a… Little girl.

 

“Bloody hell!” the man cries out, boggling onto the wall next to him in surprise, fingers tightly clasped around the doorframe.

 

Breathing still erratic and inhales short, Hyukjae stares at her.

 

The girl is standing there close to the corner of the door and the wall of the hallway, grasping her tiny hands around a threadbare stuffed toy dog that’s almost the same size as she is. Her dark hair is long and put into a ponytail, but most of the strands have already fled from the bun. The stray hairs are now scattered all over her head, but he can see the dark eyes that are trying to avoid his gaze. His eyes keep wandering. The girl’s clothes are shabby, and even in the dim-lit hallway, Hyukjae can see that she’s scared and confused. Her appearance puzzles him, and makes him think if her parents actually look after her very well. But then, the man realizes that there’s something strangely familiar in her.

 

His pulse suddenly speeds up, and for a brief moment he feels extremely dizzy.

 

It can’t be.

 

The girl doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t say anything after his outburst—and she barely dares to look at him. Until she cautiously raises her left hand, and Hyukjae notices the piece of a squared paper handed to him.

 

Trying to get words out of his mouth, he slides down against the wall, squatting to the same level with the girl who barely reaches over his knee. His legs are shaking, both from the lack of energy and fear.

 

The paper touches his fingertips, and at that moment, she glances at him.

 

“T-this—,” Hyukjae splutters, “M-me?”

 

She bites her lower lip.

 

“You want me to—“, he has to swallow, “—read it?”

 

A little, tiny nod answers, and Hyukjae takes the paper properly. And immediately, his eyes are glued to the folded piece. Horrified.

 

Oh fucking hell.

 

He doesn’t want to know what this is about. However, even her features give him hints he doesn’t want to see through. The paper doesn’t mean anything. His eyes turn to look the child one more time. She must be somewhere from three to four years—and that’s probably why this scares Hyukjae the most.

 

This must be a joke. Just a stupid joke.

 

A joke.

 

With trembling hands, he starts to open the paper.

 

He closes his eyes. Maybe it will make it less of a possibility to be something he fears.

 

There’s just no way.

 

Eyes now wide open, he stares down at the small, a little messy handwriting.

 

 

Hyukjae.

 

I can’t do this.

I tried to call you.

Take care of your daughter.

I’m done.

I can’t do this anymore.

 

—Jiah

 

 

“N-no…”

 

His legs betray him, and he slides down to the floor. His throat contracts, heartbeat increases, and everything buzzes so loudly in his ears even when it’s death silent in the hallway in front of his apartment.

 

I never wanted this.

 

Hyukjae covers his face into his hands, his breathing far too fast and erratic to even be normal anymore, and what is worst is the burning sensation in his eyes and down on his stomach that beats even the most horrendous hangovers of his life.

 

I can’t do this.

 

His life is a mess—he is a mess. He’s a disappointment. Stupid. Selfish. He has no disciplines, he hasn’t achieved anything.

 

 A failure.

 

A soft, cautious, and cracking voice—merely a whisper—catches his ears when he’s just about to run back inside and slam the door closed after him.

 

“D-daddy…?”

 

She looks at him with her fear-filled eyes, nervously twiddling the fluffy ear of her stuffed toy dog.

 

 

And Hyukjae thinks he just might be the worst thing that could ever happen to her.


	2. Two

. . two . .

 

 

 

A dog barks two floors above them.

 

Minutes have passed, but Hyukjae feels like he can't bring himself to stand up and do anything. Part of his mind still desperately wants to think that this is a joke, and not true at all. He decided a long time ago that he didn't want to belong into their life. He wasn't ready to be a father, and he still isn't. It can't be his daughter—who's now gazing at the floor and trying to look as small as she can—but unfortunately it seems like she very well is.

 

The girl shifts on her place uncomfortably. Hyukjae rises his eyes back to her, being the one to bite his lip this time.

 

She has denim overalls above a pink hoodie, a rip on her knee and a few dirt stains on her pant leg. Her eyes are round and dark, but not as single-lidded as Hyukjae’s. The cheeks are a little reddish, and she has lips that are quite full and plump—which makes the man cringe because there’s actually something that makes them look like they’re related. In his eyes she looks quite tiny, even for her age, but maybe he’s not the best to judge.

 

He takes a deep breath. They have been in the hallway for a while already, and Hyukjae would actually like to go back in—alone. He really just wants to leave and act like this never happened.

 

An awkward cough escapes from his lips at the same time he finally stands up. He strokes his sweaty hands onto his jeans, and takes a step backwards to his apartment.

 

What the hell he’s supposed to do now. He doesn't like kids.

 

The girl glances at him cautiously, a little questioningly, but still avoiding any eye-contact. She doesn’t budge, though.

 

Does he need to say something? All words have disappeared from his dictionary.

 

Hyukjae takes another step, having a grip around the handle—a grip way tighter than is necessary.

 

“Fucking hell,” he mumbles, stroking his messy hair in looming frustration.

 

Nothing happens. Hyukjae looks at her again expectantly. She takes a hesitant half-step forwards, tightening her grip on her dog. Maybe he could leave her there. If she doesn't even want to do anything, why does he bother?

 

He never gave a shit about this child's existence.

 

Jiah and he weren't even together anymore when she suddenly contacted him three months after their break-up. He didn't want this. When Jiah called then, he had clearly said that he was not going to be included in their life if she would choose to be stupid enough to keep the baby. Neither of them were parent material. Parties, drinking, getting wasted, fighting, getting high and doing other crazy stuff... None of those were a feature that went well together with raising a child.

 

It hasn't changed. Hyukjae is still as bad as he used to be.

 

Why would Jiah dare to do this now at all times?

 

He is lost. He doesn’t have the brightest clue to what to do with her. And he waits—but she doesn’t move further. Hyukjae bites his lips again—it hurts— and takes a long inhale to calm his burning brains. He's getting annoyed—mad even. His hand goes to scratch a nonexistent itch on his neck.

 

During his 23 years of life, Hyukjae might not have ever been more scared than he is now. And he’s gone through a lot—but all those fist fights, crashing with his motorbike, or even getting to know Jiah was pregnant have never gotten him this startled. Before, running away has been his best solution if nothing else worked—and it’s not that he doesn’t want to run away now, but he just can’t leave a kid—his kid—wander around alone without supervision.

 

Glaring at the girl, he fumes inside. He can't leave her here, can he? He just needs to find the damned woman and return this thing where it belongs in the first place.

 

He will not take this child to raise. Was Jiah out of her fucking mind?

 

“Get in?” he says, trying a little softer tone, but it's forced. He doesn't trust his voice. How do people usually speak kid?

 

She stares at him, still unnerved to do anything, and it makes her father think if she’s always like this.

 

Stubborn like a darn goat.

 

Then, she suddenly hands her toy dog more towards him, eyes batting together in wonder.

 

Should he be able to understand...?

 

“What...?” he retorts, puzzled. His eyes roam from her to the dog and back, and she nudges the stuffed toy again.

 

The dog has probably been white and silver back in the days, but now it is in overall grey, and it looks like it has been with her for her whole life deducing from its shaggy appearance. The dog is probably her lifeline; the one she goes to when she’s feeling down, and no one else understands. The matter kind of strikes him.

 

He opens and closes his mouth, contemplating. It’s a little embarrassing.

 

“Yes...doggie can come too,” he mutters, stepping out of her way. It doesn’t show on her lips, but her eyes start to smile. At least Hyukjae thinks so. And then she enters, a little slowly for his liking, but he lets it go.

 

It’s only till he manages to find Jiah and return her—because he’s so not going to let her stay longer than is absolutely necessary.

 

 

 

The word ‘daddy’ keeps echoing inside his head with a menacing tone. Shivers run along his spine as long as he thinks about it, and between his ears it just sounds wrong. It makes him hope he only imagined the whole thing.

 

He’s sitting on his couch, elbows put on top of his thighs and fingers crossed under his jaw as he leans on them. She’s standing a meter and half away from him as they stare at each other. The kid hasn’t said another word, and the messy haired male wonders if he should start some sort of a conversation, but he’s still too busy to do anything else but think.

 

There has to be a solution for this.

 

The paper is scrunched into his fist when he takes a look at it again, hastily reading the scribbled words over and over.

 

In agony, Hyukjae pulls out his phone and searches for the last calls made. He finds the unknown number, and presses the green icon as if it would actually connect the line even when he knows it doesn’t. Clenching his jaw, he proceeds to browse through all of his contacts listed. He rummages around, looking for any possible person who could help him with this, cursing himself for deleting Jiah’s number from the list a long time ago.

 

Hyukjae stops to stare at his mother’s number, but it’s exactly as useless as the others. He’s nothing to his own parents anymore.

 

Desperately, he checks them again.

 

And again.

 

In the end he almost ends up throwing his phone into the wall in anger.

 

The realization hits him hard.

 

There’s no one he could ask for help. All of his so called friends are as useless as he is; not one decent person who wouldn’t laugh their ass off or knuckle sandwich him straight to the face if he dared to give them a call. Except maybe from his sister, but she lives too far away from Seoul and wouldn’t be any help right now.

 

Does he really not have a single soul who could lend him a hand now? He has tons of friends and acquaintances, but the further he thinks the more miserable he feels. There’s no one he trusts; no one who could come up with any good options. Even Taehyung won’t really do. He’s probably still having a hangover, as per usual. And he would probably come up with the weirdest ideas, so he’s a definite no-no.

 

Hyukjae hasn’t felt so alone since he was eighteen.

 

Sighing in exasperation—he’s already lost count how many times he has sighed already—he closes his eyes and brings his palm to massage his temples. The headache is more mental, but it doesn’t make it any less of annoying. Hyukjae eyes the girl, realizing that he barely remembers her name. Furrowing his eyebrows, he tries to focus and memorize it—but it’s hard; he hasn’t had anything to do with Jiah let along their daughter in almost four years. He has simply managed to sweep anything related to that part of his life under the rug.

 

He thinks it might start with J, but he might also be terribly wrong.

 

Hyukjae’s patience has already started to seethe. He wants to get rid of the kid as soon as possible, but before he can actually do anything about it, he has to find Jiah’s current phone number or address. As he goes through the contact list one more time, a name catches his eye. They’ve barely met before, but he knows that this guy is—or at least has been—Jiah’s friend, and he can’t let the opportunity go for waste.

 

The phone is placed against his ear as soon as he rushes to press the ‘call’ icon. Not two seconds pass, and he’s already standing on his legs and marching around his apartment, getting twitchy. He doesn’t notice, but the girl turns around to follow his steps with her gaze. The phone alerts, a bit too long, and Hyukjae’s already huffing and ready to blow his stack. What the hell is he going to do if he can’t reach his ex-girlfriend soon?

 

He’s already thinking about throwing his phone through the window, when someone actually answers. Hyukjae doesn’t know him well, but they at least recognize each other by names. He gets the number after a short persuasion. The number is scribbled onto the same piece of paper the girl gave her before, and the call ends. Right after that, he presses the numbers on his phone and dials. In a way, he feels nervous.

 

It soon changes into anger, when a monotonic voice speaks up.

 

"The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable."

 

“Dammit!” He stomps his foot to the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm down. How could he be able to calm down though when everything seems to be turning into disaster? In despair, he tries to call again, even when he knows the matter is not going to change. But then he feels a tug on his hoodie, and he turns to face his daughter who’s currently pulling the ribbing with an expression that mirrors Hyukjae’s. He stands there; his hand with the phone awkwardly held on the air, overwhelmed.

 

What is she doing?

 

Hyukjae gives his phone a glance, and then he drops his gaze to examine the girl; she shakes her head slightly, and looks at him in a way that he’s supposed to understand something. He doesn’t get it.

 

“We gotta get you back to your mom,” he says, matter-of-factly, although uncomfortable. He tears his eyes up and presses the icon again, only to hear the same words repeated.

 

She tugs his hoodie the second time, and a repressed growl starts to linger on Hyukjae’s lips. The girl demands his attention with more tugging and head-shaking. His eyes are glued to the child for a second. Her other hand is still tightly holding onto the stuffed toy.

 

There’s a wild guess on top of his tongue.

 

“You…don’t want me to call your mom?”

 

She obviously doesn’t need to think twice when she nods slowly at him. Her eyebrows are furrowed in concern. This look of pure worry distresses the man, and for a brief moment he hesitates everything. But truthfully speaking, it’s a rough fact that he’s not going to keep her with him. Anything else but that is an option to him at the moment.

 

The brown haired man gapes at her, not knowing what to say.

 

“I can’t…” Every word feels weird in his mouth. “I’m no good for ‘ya, kiddo.”

 

She purses her lips, biting the inside of it.

 

Hyukjae wants to disappear now more than ever.

 

“I’m gonna find your mom, okay? She’s…probably missing you already—yeah. You need to get back home,” he babbles, contemplating if it would be too mean to just say as the things really were. But then he realizes the last thing he wants to witness is a crying child, and he immediately shoots down the thought. He has to find an alternative for this.

 

Hyukjae goes back for the sofa, sitting down in an indolent manner. The girl follows the few steps after him, and then stops. He’s not sure but he could guess she’s pondering something. It takes a minute, and during the time the girl’s eyes are locked onto something, the man can’t quite put his finger on what exactly. She gives him a shy, expectant look, pointing his small finger to the couch’s way.

 

“What? You wanna sit down?” he asks. She takes one step closer. Hyukjae stares at her, mouth little open because he’s just so not into this. Trying to understand this creature is a struggle. “You can sit down, you know.”

 

She walks to the couch, and climbs to sit beside Hyukjae, on the other end of the couch that’s not even long enough for him to sleep on without dangling his legs over the armrest. The dog’s being hugged against her chest, and from the corner of his eye, the brunet observes her again. He feels like he’s done nothing but stare since she emerged behind his door. But children are something he’s never gotten along with very well. It has always felt awkward. They’re annoying and noisy, always demanding something. Although this one hasn’t uttered a word since ‘daddy.’

 

Why doesn’t she talk? Isn’t kids her age supposed to be able to talk? He’s pretty sure that it was almost four years ago when Jiah told him that he had a daughter now.

 

It was probably the oddest day of his life. It was supposed to be an amazing thing, but Hyukjae didn’t want anything to do with the child. There are some hazy mental images from that day. He remembers it being the beginning of June; it was unusually chilly for it being summer, and it was raining half the time. After Jiah let him know about her birth—it was quite late evening—he called Taehyung and asked him to accompany him for few drinks. Things escalated, though. The morning after must have been one of the worst hangovers he’s ever had.

 

He also got into a pretty nasty fight that night. The next day, Taehyung insisted that he should get the gush over his eyebrow checked, and he ended up sitting two hours at the closest emergency room and getting four stitches. It wasn’t his first nor the last time.

 

He has quite a temper, and from time to time he finds himself from there even these days.

 

Hyukjae’s train of thought suddenly stops when he thinks about the ER again.

 

It’s a stupid thought.

 

He actually met one of his old childhood friends at the emergency room not even so long ago—maybe six months from now—and after that, they’ve been on some sort of speaking terms again every time Hyukjae ended up getting new stitches or bandaged up.

 

They were actually pretty good friends when they were young. He was his neighbor when they went to elementary, and because of that they kind of started to hang out after they met at one of the soccer fields nearby. For years, he remembers, they hung out after school; playing soccer, biking, doing some chemistry assignments together and bothering neighbors by making ‘Cola Rockets’ with some cheap diet Cola and Mentos pastilles.

 

It lasted even till high school. But on 10th grade, they drifted apart. Hyukjae didn’t like soccer as much as he did, and their time together decreased drastically when his friend got into the school’s soccer team and therefore got a punch of new friends.

 

He doesn’t want to admit, but he was kind of bitter about it for years.

 

But then he met Donghae at the ER. It was kind of funny; they hadn’t met in years and both had changed quite a lot from the high school years. Donghae was a nurse on call—Hyukjae learned he is a part-timer there—and got to bandage Hyukjae’s opened knuckles and the stress fracture on his wrist. And since then, every time he had to go treat something again, it was Donghae who treated him.

 

Sometimes they chitchat a little, but it’s only that. They are light-years apart, and they have nothing in common—but they were still friends back in the days.

 

Hyukjae knows he’s out of his fucking mind, but he doesn’t see another relatively good option here.

 

There’s no one else he could ask anything like this. Donghae works in the health care, so he’s supposed to care about people, right? It makes perfect sense in Hyukjae’s head.

 

He gives a look to the girl sitting quietly next to him, and their similar colored eyes stare into each other’s for a moment. Her name is still a bit in the shadows for him, but the thinks he might remember it soon. Was there something similar in their names…?

 

“Hey,” he starts, looking thoughtful. “We’re gonna go meet a friend, okay?”

 

The girl shyly nods. 


	3. Three

. . three . .

 

 

 

 

It’s usually a ten minute walk to the hospital, but having the girl along seriously slows them down. It has already been over fifteen minutes. Hyukjae has thought about carrying her so they would move faster, but he can’t find the courage to actually do it. It seems too affectionate, and he doesn’t want any of that.

 

Instead, he tries to pace his steps to match the girl’s.

 

It’s still quite warm, although the trees tell that summer is indeed changing into fall. The pavements are covered with a thin layer of different yellows and oranges. The sun tries to peek behind the darker clouds, and somehow the weather doesn’t fit the turmoil inside of him at all. It’s too peaceful and calm outside, when inside of himself he’s a desperate mess of feelings.

 

Walking there with his daughter, he realizes it’s the first time he’s ever met her in person.

 

And he still struggles to remember her name.

 

What confuses him a little is the way she doesn’t say—well, at least show—anything against whatever he says. She doesn’t resist anything, but quietly follows. He’s not sure if he should be glad about it or not.

 

It’s not the walking itself what bothers him. It’s the stares. The man really tries to ignore it, but he can’t help but see people giving odd looks towards him. Well, he’s not exactly the father of the year material with his ragged leather jacket appearance. He’s the one your parents warned you about. He’s the good-for-nothing and the one who’s up to no good. He’s the perfect example about what you should never turn up like.

 

Every other older woman glares at him along their nose, bridling at him as they pass by. Hyukjae has learned to ignore those stares when he was a lot younger, but now when he has a kid beside him it feels a little different.

 

 

 

The hospital already looms ahead of them when they stop at the traffic lights, and he turns to glance at the girl who stops beside him obediently. He feels an already a little familiar tug on his hoodie, and the agitated churning sensations returns into his stomach.

 

Hyukjae tries to think over how he’s actually going to persuade his old friend to help him. They’re not friends anymore, and he has easily caught onto the look Donghae always gives him when Hyukjae arrives to the emergency room after a rough night.

 

He thinks the same way as everybody else.

 

But Hyukjae needs him. He has to be on duty—there’s no other option.

 

It takes another five minutes to reach the building, but they finally arrive. It’s Saturday, closing to 5pm, and there’s not so much commotion—but enough people to look at them funnily.

 

Hyukjae takes a brief look that the girl is still following him, and he marches to grab one of the loitering nurse’s arm after not finding the one he’s looking for at the first glance.

 

“Hey, you!” he hollers, and the young woman turns to look at him. She has long hair and deep eyes, and for the first impression she could be the type Hyukjae might try to flirt with, but then she shots him a surprising death glare. Eyes wide, he slips his hand off. She condemns him without any shame.

 

“Yes?” she then finally says.

 

“Uh,” he ponders his words. “Do you happen to know if—“

 

“I’m sorry, but you should go ask from the info desk for any detailed information about—“

 

“No, no, no!—I mean, do you know if Donghae’s on call? I need to see him,” Hyukjae says, growling a little in frustration.

 

“Donghae?” Her eyes narrow.

 

“Yes, Lee Donghae, you know the—“

 

“Well, you need to check in first. We’ll deal with in order of urgency, and I can’t ensure he will be the attending nurse for you.”

 

“No! This is urgent! I need to speak with him,” Hyukjae protests. It’s obvious she knows Donghae, and it couldn’t annoy the brunet more at the moment. He feels something touching his leg, and he realizes it must be his daughter.

 

“Have you checked in, mister…?”

 

“You don’t understand,” he groans, desperately. “Is he here or not?”

 

“Uh-huh, I don’t think you understand but we have certain policies about dealing with patients –“

 

She’s being cut off mid-sentence, when a third person—oh thank god—joins their debate whilst looking a little apologetically at the female nurse.

 

“I can take care of this, Jung.”

 

Donghae doesn’t give a proper look towards Hyukjae yet. The woman seems a bit offended.

 

“But—“

 

“I know him—I’ll deal with this, okay? I’ll use my break now.”

 

The man has a white hospital jacket and a light blue collared shirt under it. His hair is really dark brown, clean cut, and the expression always a little sad because of the shape of his eyebrows; his skin is not flawless, but he’s definitely the type females always swoon over. He’s the one who’s gotten the good cards in the game of life—the exact opposite from Hyukjae.

 

Donghae gives the other nurse an assuring nod, and it’s enough, because she leaves. When she’s gone, Donghae slowly turns to finally face Hyukjae with raised eyebrows. He crosses his arms over his chest and eyes expectantly at the male who looks like he’s practically been pulled straight out of bed.

 

Hyukjae brushes his hand through his hair, not caring about the fact that it doesn’t make his bed head any better.

 

“I need to talk to you,” he says with a slightly hesitant determination.

 

There’s people going around them, rushing to and fro, and Hyukjae senses how the girl curls her hand more around his lower thigh as she stands behind him, in hiding. It’s a bit irritating.

 

Donghae seems like he’s not exactly satisfied with the situation either.

 

“What is it?” Donghae asks.

 

Hyukjae bites his lips as he steps a little closer to the other man, rolling the sentence on his tongue before he lets it out, tone lower and unusually polite: “I need your help, mate.” Staring for a short while into Donghae’s eyes Hyukjae hopes the nurse realizes that he’s being serious for once.

 

“Okay. Well,” he starts with an awkward cough, “Let’s move a little aside—it’s kind of noisy here…”

 

The dark haired man gives him an unreadable glance, until something catches his eyes. He seems to finally take a note of the little girl standing behind him. The frown turns into an entirely confused expression for a second, before a soft smile grows on his face and he hunches a bit lower.

 

“Oh, who’s this?” A smile is plastered on his face.

 

“Uh—she’s…” Hyukjae mumbles, thoughts jumping erratically when he tries to avoid answering the question. Luckily for him—although a bit unluckily for his ego—Donghae nonchalantly ignores him when he keeps blabbering to the girl even when she shyly hides her face onto Hyukjae’s leg again.

 

“Hey there,” Donghae says delightfully, waving his hand towards her. “You’re a little shy, aren’t you? What if I bought you a hot chocolate—would you like that?”

 

Hyukjae’s hand goes into his hair again, ruffling the messy mop at the same time he gives Donghae hard glares for fuzzing around the kid he so much wants to get rid of. Whatever, get the girl hot chocolate. Your money, not mine. He rolls his eyes when Donghae continues gently.

 

“My treat, okay?”

 

Yeah. Next you’re going to get her a pony.

 

Hyukjae shifts his head impatiently, hoping Donghae would move already and show him the way wherever he wants to so they could get this out of the way.

 

“I’ll grab something to eat real quickly from the café first,” Donghae says after waving his hand the second time, sailing a bit ahead of them, and the older man—yes, he still remembers he’s the few months older of them—gives the girl on his pant leg a glance.

 

Kind of figured. I’m not deaf, you know. I was right here.

 

“We’re right behind you,” Hyukjae replies shortly, gritting his teeth together.

 

The girl raises his round eyes to gaze back at him in mild curiosity. Hyukjae muses between the two names he’s had in mind since they arrived, a little unnerved about the fact that Donghae would obviously ask that.  When Donghae is already at the café a bit further away from them, he squats down to the girl’s level. The stuffed toy has been dragged along the floor, and is now laying against her legs.  There’s the washing instructions tag on the dog’s butt that catches his attention, and Hyukjae notices there’s something scribbled onto it. He reaches for the toy carefully, but stops to look at the girl in question.

 

“Can I take a look at your doggie?”

 

She lifts the toy slowly upwards. He takes the toy, and turns it around. Someone must have heard his hopeless wishes since there’s actually a name written on it. And it’s the other one of the two he already had in mind.

 

“Jaemin,” he mumbles, giving back her dog. “It’s your name, right?”

 

She nods a little more enthusiastically, pursing her lips.

 

Hyukjae glances over his shoulder, towards the café. Donghae’s already on the cashier.

 

“Okay, good,” he sighs, relieved. One trouble less, he thinks, but the nervousness starts to crawl back in. “I’ll have to talk more with that guy we spoke with just now. He’s a…friend. He’s a nice guy. Let’s go, ok?” As Hyukjae stands up, a sound catches him off guard.

 

“Okay,” Jaemin says softly, pressing the dog against her chest. Again, it’s almost a mere whisper but she definitely just said something.

 

Hyukjae has to close his mouth, and he doesn’t know what to think. His head goes blank, but he starts walking towards Donghae, expecting her to keep following him. He has to find Jiah as soon as possible—this can’t go on like this.

 

Donghae has a takeaway cup of coffee and hot chocolate with a sandwich on his hands when he waits t the two to arrive. He’s partly turned towards the front doors, and it looks like he’s going to go outside.

 

 

 

The hospital’s only recreation ground comprises of few park benches, a mediocre water fountain and a punch of flower beds. There’s supposed to be a playground too, but at the moment it’s under construction and not in use, Hyukjae notices.

 

Donghae halts in front of one of the benches painted in tile red color, and takes a seat on it. Hyukjae stops a meter away from him, remaining on his feet since it feels impossible to sit down right now.  Jaemin follows right behind, but Donghae taps the bench and soundly asks her to come sit with him.

 

Hyukjae swallows, although his mouth feels horribly dry. It takes a moment for Jaemin to ponder if she can actually trust the man with the white jacket. But towards the girl, the man holds onto the tender expression. The stuffed dog hangs from her hand, reaching the gravels under them when she takes a cautious step toward him. Hyukjae observes them, biting the insides of his mouth, fingers tucked into the pockets of his jeans. The sun glimmers through the clouds, forcing him to narrow his eyes. The weather is still relatively warm, but it doesn’t help him feel any easier. However, the girl takes a step backwards and leans against Hyukjae’s leg again.

 

He cleans his throat, and Donghae gazes at him expectantly, but there’s some reservation in his otherwise warm eyes. Hyukjae feels the invisible wall between them, but this is his best chance now. He has no idea how to take care of a four year old, and until he finds Jiah, he desperately needs help with that.

 

Donghae takes a sip of his coffee. His fringe covers part of his eyes with the mug over his mouth. When he drops it lower, he licks his lips in thought before he mutters in a low voice.

 

“So, what did you want?”

 

Hyukjae takes a deep breath.

 

“This is my…daughter,” he blurts.

 

Oh well. Here we go.

 

The coffee goes wrong in Donghae’s throat, and he coughs once, placing his coffee on the bench next to him just in case.

 

“What?” His eyes go wider. “She’s your what?”

 

“Daughter.”

 

“…she’s not.”

 

“Is.”

 

“You don’t have a daughter,” Donghae snorts back and takes the hot chocolate. It looks like he’s trying to distract himself from the things he just heard, or he’s trying really hard to focus on understanding them.

 

“Since four years ago,” Hyukjae retorts matter-of-factly, giving a look at the younger man.

 

Donghae stirs the chocolate with a plastic spoon, testing if it’s too hot. The frown on his face is slowly getting deeper, and his lips form a thin line.

 

“That bit—my ex… She sent her to my door with a note saying that she’s done being a mother.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“Do I look like I’m joking around?” Hyukjae snarls, making a tilt towards the girl with his head. “I have no fucking idea what to do.”

 

“Language,” Donghae hisses back at the same time he starts opening the plastic around his lunch. He crunches his nose.

 

Hyukjae grits his teeth again. “I didn’t want this.”

 

“You’re four years late on that.”

 

He huffs, getting extremely annoyed. His heart thumbs loudly up in his ears.

 

“I’m not gonna keep--,” he makes a pointing move with his head again towards the girl grasping onto the toy. “—you know.”

 

Donghae doesn’t say anything, but takes a sip from his milk coffee. Hyukjae still remembers this look of him; he’s thinking really hard on something. But instead of giving a reply to Hyukjae, he hunches a little lower, trying to make contact with the girl.

 

“Here’s your chocolate, if you want to drink,” the nurse says in the soft tone, that kind of gets on the other’s nerves. “What’s your name? My name is Donghae.”

 

Jaemin hides a little more behind his father’s legs, avoiding eye contact.

 

“She's really shy.”

 

“Jaemin,” Hyukjae says between.

 

It goes a bit over Donghae’s ears: “Hmm?”

 

“Her name is Jaemin.” Hyukjae meets his gaze slowly. There’s a pregnant silence, when Donghae drifts his attention back to the child. His eyes start to wander more carefully on her, examining her appearance. It seems that he’s starting to catch the details, some of them a little alarming. Hyukjae changes the weight onto his other foot, waiting.

 

“She’s been with you for how long…?” Donghae asks. There’s obviously a hidden meaning in it, and it makes the father toss his neck in pique.

 

“Barely an hour and half. She was like that when she came ringing my doorbell—alone,” he grumbles, already answering to the question in Donghae’s head.

 

“Hmm.”

 

“I’m gonna find her mother, but it’s gonna take a while. Her number doesn’t work anymore and I don’t know where she lives either.”

 

“You’ll return her,” Donghae notes blankly.

 

“I know what you’re thinking about, I don’t want—“ Something holds him from saying it. “I’m no good for anyone.”

 

Donghae remains quiet, the brief quirk of his eyebrows giving out his clear opinion that he, for once, agrees with Hyukjae.

 

“I need your help, Donghae. Just till I find her mother,” Hyukjae continues, no with a lot more honest desperation lingering on his voice.

 

Donghae glances at him meaningfully. “Why me?”

 

The older turns his eyes away, biting his lips for almost ten seconds.

 

“I don’t have anyone,” he starts, eyes cold and empty. He tries to harden himself; it’s not easy to admit the fact. “You’re the only decent person in my life anymore.” There’s a raise of eyebrows, and it makes him sigh heavily. “I know, we’re not really friends anymore, and I don’t know how to repay this to you, but I have no idea how to be with a kid. So if you could—I don’t know—babysit her while I try to find Jiah?”

 

Jaemin leans against his leg, a bit unsteadily.

 

Donghae stares at the man who’s mostly dressed in black, except from the gray hoodie under his leather jacket. Hyukjae’s messy, cold chestnut brown hair flicks in the light wind. His dark eyes stand out even more now that he still has the leftovers of the last night’s eyeliner on.

 

“How about your parents?” he then asks the older, and anger pours up to Hyukjae’s surface.

 

“I haven’t seen them in years,” Hyukjae spats back quietly.

 

The male nurse frowns in confusion. There’s probably no way he could know about Hyukjae’s life after high school. They haven’t been in any kind of direct or even indirect contact since then.

 

“I—,” Donghae starts, but his sentence stops suddenly and he stands up, closing the few steps in-between them and squats down next to Jaemin—who’s now drooping against Hyukjae’s legs; obviously ready to fall asleep. “Jesus, Hyukjae,” the nurse mutters in annoyance, and catches the girl on his arms before she happens to fall down.

 

“She could have hurt herself. You need to pay attention,” he nags, then hands the girl onto her father’s arms. “Take her, I need to get back to work. I need to conjure my co-worker to cover me so I could luckily get off in an hour.”

 

Hyukjae is forced to take the girl onto his embrace, because Donghae doesn’t give him other options—at least that’s what his eyes are telling Hyukjae. He feels awkward and flustered to be in this kind of contact with the girl. He’s tried not to make any if possible, because for starters, it freaks him out. For second, he’s been secretly hoping that if he doesn’t touch her in any way, it wouldn’t become so real.

 

Now it’s way too real for his liking.

 

She’s light to hold, and Donghae helps him a little—without asking—to fix her position for a more comfortable one as she soon has her cheek pressed on the crook of Hyukjae’s neck, her little hands airily curled over his shoulders, and the stuffed dog pressed in between his elbow and her back.

 

Donghae continues babbling. “I think she’s going to nap at least for an half an hour, it’s been a rough day for her.”

 

Hyukjae can’t get a word out of his mouth. Jaemin’s chest rises slowly as she takes breaths in her sleep, and it’s so odd to have something that small yet so living so close. He’s a little scared he’s going to break her if he moves.

 

“C-can we stay and wait?” the brunet then asks uncertainly, staring at the creature sleeping on him with horrified and concerned orbs.

 

Donghae puts the empty coffee mug into the nearest trash can. “You can stay in the waiting area or the cafeteria,” he replies, holding onto the now-already-cold hot chocolate cup, contemplating if he’s just going to do the same for it and throw it away.

 

Hyukjae takes the cup from him suddenly, and takes a sip of the overly sweet—although cold—cocoa. “I can have this, thank you very much.”

 

The nurse shakes his head in disbelief, turning towards the hospital’s entrance, the sandwich still on his hand, untouched. “You have the next two days to find her mother. Those are my free days.” 

 

The older takes it as a yes to help him out this once. Relieved, he sighs. Some sort of hazy feeling of content settles in him, and he thinks there’s a chance he’ll survive these two days.

 

“You’re going to owe me some, Hyukjae.”

 

 

 

When Donghae disappears back into the building, he realizes he also has to survive through the next hour alone.

 

Well, fuck.

 

He takes an experimental step, holding onto the girl with one arm around her tiny form. Holding his breath he waits for a second or two until he’s sure Jaemin is still fast asleep, and he takes another one.

 

It was going to be a long hour.


	4. Four

. . four . .

 

 

It takes a while for him to understand that he could really move around without waking her up. Even when an ambulance decides to drive through to the hospital with its sirens wailing loudly—giving Hyukjae a heart attack—Jaemin soundly keeps kipping against his shoulder.

 

You can’t be for real, kid, he smirks as he steps into the somewhat calm lobby of the ER.

 

Occasionally sipping the cold chocolate on his other hand, he proceeds towards the waiting area; trying to shun a bit further away from all the people that give them reproachful and despising looks. He finds a seat closer to the big window where only an older man is sitting on the other end of the row of seats, holding a newspaper up high to his face. Hyukjae lets out a heavy exhale when he cautiously sits down, unconsciously securing the girl a little better on his hold.

 

The time flies slowly.

 

It hasn’t been even ten minutes yet, when the serenity starts increasingly tire him out. The people sitting there doesn’t really change, expect when a middle-aged woman takes her leave. He leans the other side of his jaw against his fist that’s settled against the armrest, as his eyelids threateningly starts to droop. The warmth that comes from the little creature hanging onto him makes him feel sort of cozy. There’s nothing interesting to keep him occupied enough, but he tries to stay awake the best he’s able to.

 

It seems impossible try to break from any of those thoughts turning and tossing inside his head. Although he now knows that Donghae is going to help him till he finds his damned ex, he’s scared. He can’t find himself being too comfortable; it’s obvious he’s tense and anxious although he might seem calm outwards.

 

The last thoughts that sail through his mind are about Jiah. She was the perfect partner in crime; rule breaker, risk taker, thrill seeker. She was the life of the party. Wild and crazy, and those were all things Hyukjae liked about her the most. Their thing was always to have fun till wee hours. It was never about love; it was partnership, sex and escapism. Match made in hell.

 

Sometimes he misses those times, but today is definitely not one of them.

 

The man on the other end of the row puts down the newspaper and leaves. Everything soon fades into darkness as Hyukjae drifts off into a restless slumber.

 

 

 

“...ey. Hey. Wake up.”

 

It takes him a while to grasp on the noise that repeats itself a few times before he stirs and the bright lights seem to blind him for a second. Soon he recognizes the voice, and he notices the figure sitting on the bench beside him.

 

He’s so tired though. He doesn’t want to wake up, but Donghae nudges his arm, and he sits straight, trailing his palm through his face and letting out a yawn. First, the older gives Donghae a glance. He has changed from his work clothes to denim jeans and a simple, black shirt. A neat jacket is hanging from the crook of his arm, and on his shoulder he has a bag. His eyes soon turn to the other side where Jaemin is still asleep. The clock on the same side up on the wall shows it has been only 50 minutes since Donghae went back to work.

 

Hyukjae inhales tiredly.

 

“You’re both heavy sleepers,” Donghae says. It’s not so easy to discern if he’s a little amused or actually annoyed instead. He seems a little anxious, though. “Jung took over me so we can go.”

 

“Yeah,” Hyukjae mutters, noticing that the arm he’s hold onto the girl has gone dead. He grimaces, turning her over to his other hand, which is not so easy because he’s still like a fish out of water with this. Eventually he manages to get up, and as they walk towards the entrance, there are people staring again. It pisses him off, to be honest.

 

Donghae leads them out through the parking lot to his car. It’s already dark outside, and Hyukjae shivers from the chillier wind. It’s not hard to pick on to the fact that things are a little awkward between them, when neither of them talks until Donghae orders him to sit on the backseat just when he’s about to grab the handle of the passenger’s. Hyukjae rolls his eyes but does it anyway. He struggles to settle Jaemin beside him, still afraid of waking her up.

 

“Tell me your address,” Donghae retorts, starting the car.

 

He tells.

 

The drive lasts for mere ten minutes, not one of them talking. Jaemin starts to finally stir from her nap, slowly opening her eyes as she snuggles against Hyukjae’s left arm.

 

The area Hyukjae lives in is crammed from dozens of the same looking old, timeworn apartment buildings. It’s not the worst it could be, and for him and for now, it’s enough. He tries to get a hold of Donghae’s expressions though, but he only notices the unimpressed eyes and a little lip-biting he does when he parks the car on the edge of the road, behind two other cars.

 

“Will I get a ticket if I park here?” Donghae asks, sharing a quick glance through the view mirror.

 

“Let’s hope not,” Hyukjae grunts and opens the door, standing out of the car. He turns back around for the girl who seems still to be pretty dazed from sleep. He has to pluck up his nerves before he leans back inside to carry her out. Donghae takes his bag from the passenger’s seat and closes the doors with an electronic key.

 

“Which one of those?”

 

“That one on the far left.”

 

The way from the car to his apartment is silent. For Hyukjae it’s not difficult grasp on the fact what is wrong. It’s him.

 

“Which floor?” Donghae asks, uninterested.

 

“Third.”

 

It’s not that it’s easy for him either. Although he wants to think otherwise, he’s still not over the fact how Donghae ditched him for the soccer team and popularity in high school. He hasn’t forgiven him. But the fact that’s really starting getting into him is how Donghae acts around him now. He’s not an idiot, and it doesn’t take a lot to notice how the younger silently judges everything about him.

 

He has to grit his teeth as the elevator brings them to the right floor.

 

The hallway is dark as they step into it. Hyukjae automatically reaches for his keys, and doesn’t care to put the lights on. The key clacks in the lock, and he opens the door.

 

It’s almost as if they’re strangers when they get into his apartment. Hyukjae throws his shoes off carelessly, and then puts Jaemin down. She’s still tired but at least able to stand on her own two legs. He immediately walks further into the house and leaves the girl and Donghae behind. He switches a light on, throwing himself onto the couch with a grunt.

 

He would really like to clear his head from all of this. Clear it with alcohol, to be exact. It’s just too much fuzz.

 

He has just managed to close his eyes, when he hears Donghae clearing his throat and he peeks at him with his other eye, other still fully closed.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know,” Donghae says sarcastically, looking a bit pissed. “You know, maybe you could care to give me some details about this mess you’ve put yourself into? This place looks filthy, by the way.”

 

“Like you gave a shit about it,” Hyukjae snorts. His place might be messy but it’s definitely not filthy. He’s just disorganized. He’s tired and Donghae irritates him. This whole thing irritates him.

 

“Don’t swear.”

 

“Swear my ass. Just look after the girl and that’s all you need to do.”

 

“Right,” Donghae comments, arms crossed over his chest. “Well, when’s the last time she ate anything?”

 

“I don’t know. At home?” Hyukjae closes his eyes indifferently. He’s not going to admit, that he too, is starving.

 

Donghae opens his mouth but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he walks away, and the next thing Hyukjae hears is his fridge being opened. When he opens his eyes again, not getting clear what Donghae just mumbled in his kitchen, he gets a little startled when Jaemin blinks her eyes at him as she stands behind the opposite armrest. Her jaw barely meets the top of it.

 

Donghae returns, and it seems like he’s in a temper. “You have absolutely nothing in your kitchen!”

 

“I think there’s still few beers and three eggs left,” Hyukjae notes, knowing that he’s purposely annoying the younger.

 

“Oh yeah? Well, Mr. Smart-a—uh—idiot, what do you think I’m going to cook from them?”

 

Hyukjae thinks he might not be in his right mind when Donghae is actually a little hilarious when he’s angry. It reminds him about few times when they were kids and the younger threw a fit over something that was seriously not even important; like the mismatched socks he had when they were nine years old.

 

“Get your butt up from the couch,” Donghae orders.

 

“Why?”

 

“She needs to eat! You’re going to the grocery store right on this instant.”

 

“Come on—“

 

“Don’t come on me. I’m supposed to babysit her right? Or do you want to stay here while I go out and leave you here?”

 

“Well…”

 

“You. Out. Now. And don’t you dare to come back with some convenience food.”

 

 

 

At first, Hyukjae thinks he can finally sigh in relief when he steps into the grocery store alone. No kid along, no Donghae in sight.

 

Then he reaches the dairy isle and he starts to think otherwise.

 

What the heck does normal people eat?

 

His head goes haywire, and even a row of different kinds of milk suddenly freaks him out.

 

Well played, Donghae.

 

Like, he could probably manage this grocery thing if he only bought food from himself. But now the area he usually gets his food is banned, and he also needs to think what a 4 year old kid could eat, the task seems impossible.

 

Normal milk? Fat free? Chocolate milk? Extra fatty milk straight from the cow? God damn it, why are there so many different milks? What is even considered as ‘normal’ milk?

 

And it’s just the first aisle.

 

Eventually, after pondering for good five minutes, he takes the one they used to have at home when he still lived there.

 

Then, what?

 

He keeps wandering, trying to make guesses what would be acceptable by Donghae’s books, when his phone starts to ring. It’s a little weird hearing his ringtone after a day when his usual life is filled with events that he never ought to happen. He draws out his cheap smart phone, forgetting everything else for a while when a familiar name keeps flickering on the screen. A smirk forms onto his lips, when he puts it onto his ear and hears a voice that makes him sigh in content. He could already taste cold beer on his mouth.

 

“Ayy, mate! Where are you? How was last night? You disappeared before twelve, bugger! Got lucky, huh?” Taehyung blabbers; enthusiastically and loudly.

 

“Getting some food,” Hyukjae starts, and grabs a packet of rice and some ramen into the basket. His thoughts drift to Jaemin standing behind his door suddenly. “I’m not sure if lucky is really the best word to describe anything at the moment…” he keeps muttering, absent-mindedly picking some cereals too.

 

“What what what? I thought she was pretty hot! Didn’t see her knockers too well that far tho to give you my honest opinion.”

 

“No, I mean, she was fine—at least from what I can remember—there’s just some other shite going on…” he groans, longing to get drunk. He really doesn’t want to think he now has a daughter—and a nitwit—to go home to. He doesn’t really pay too much attention on what he puts in the basket. It’s getting a little heavy already.

 

“Oh, too bad,” Taehyung mumbles, “You up for a drink tonight?”

 

Hyukjae lets out a laugh; “Thought you’d never ask.”

 

 

 

When he closes the door after he finally gets back, a pretty unusual whirring sounds echo in the house. It smells different too. He raises his eyebrows in question when a wild Donghae appears behind the corner of his kitchenette, vacuuming away.

 

“What the hell?” he asks, tossing out his sneakers all over the place as he walks toward the living room with a plastic bag clenched into his fist. He seriously can’t believe it.

 

Where did he even find that thing?

 

The whirring suddenly stops, and Donghae strokes his hand through his hair that is now a bit messier than when Hyukjae left the house.

 

“Took you long enough,” Donghae retorts, exhaling heavily as he’s been actually busy doing…things.

 

Jaemin comes into his sight too, having different clothes on that seem more like pajamas to Hyukjae’s eyes. She smiles shyly at him, pointing towards the living room area on her left. Hyukjae eyes the place cautiously, noticing quite a lot of change. Where are the piles of clothes? Where are all the rubbish he had around his coffee table? Where is his stuff?

 

“What have you done?” he asks along with a wary breath, staring at Donghae who has his other hand on his hips.

 

“Your pigsty was in need of a little cleanup…” Donghae mutters innocently, ruffling Jaemin’s hair. “You helped me a little, right Jaemin?”

 

Since when did those two become friends?

 

The girl nods. She’s still being overly shy around Donghae, but there’s a difference nevertheless.

 

Donghae gives Hyukjae a hard glare. Don’t you dare to say what you actually think, Hyukjae.

 

“Uh… It looks…clean?”

 

“And?” the younger man demands.

 

“…thank…you?”

 

“Good,” Donghae mouths to him inaudibly. “Now I think it’s time for some food. What did you bring?” The younger leaves the vacuum cleaner and steps towards Hyukjae, taking the bag from him and going into the kitchenette. It’s silent for a minute after Donghae’s put the bag on top of the counter, now examining what’s in.

 

Hyukjae’s mentally preparing for more nagging.

 

“I guess I can get something done from these,” he hears a mumble from the kitchen, “But seriously Hyukjae… Frosties? What are you?”

 

I guess I was asking for that.

 

“Well, your almighty highness, I used to eat those when I was a kid!” Hyukjae grumbles. “…And I still like them.”

 

“I guess Tony Tiger suits your mental age well.”

 

The brown haired huffs and leans against the doorframe.

 

“I thought you were one who once ate a whole package at our place… What were we…fourteen?” Hyukjae reminisces those all times again, and Donghae stiffens on his feet a little. He’s not sure why he even remembers things like that anymore. Maybe it’s because it seems like their friendship actually meant something for him other than Donghae.

 

Donghae doesn’t say anything, but he begins to put some equipment on the counter, and Hyukjae rolls his eyes before he leaves the younger to cook whatever he’s going to. It makes him wonder when was the last time he actually ate a home-cooked meal though.

 

It’s still weird though. It’s all bickering and arguing around, and sometimes it doesn’t even feel that awkward, but then it returns like a big-ass puff of thick smoke. At times it feels like they might get along, but then there’s that look in Donghae’s eyes that tells what it actually is, and it gets Hyukjae go all defensive and bitter again.

 

He goes to sit in the living room, where Jaemin already is seated on the other end of the couch, twiddling the floppy ears of her dog. Hyukjae stares at her for a moment.

 

“Where did you find those clothes for the kid?” he hollers to Donghae, at the same time he hears a click that sounds suspiciously like his rice cooker.

 

“I found a pink backpack with a puppy on front from the hallway—I reasoned it rather belonged to Jaemin than you.”

 

Oh, yeah.

 

He might have seen something like that on her when she came—but he was too much in a shock to really pay attention to things like that then. A thought crosses his mind then.

 

“Was there anything else in it?”

 

“Just clothes to last few days.”

 

Jiah obviously doesn’t want to be found. It makes his stomach churn unpleasantly again.

 

Hyukjae sighs and leans his back against the backrest in defeat. From the corner of his eye he notes the look his daughter is giving him, and he swallows and decides that distraction would be a good thing now. He feels trapped, and he can’t wait to get out of there again. Just few hours.

 

He reaches to take the remote controller, putting the TV on. There’s some American drama going on, but he switches the channel few times, before he finds what he’s looking for.

 

It seems they have one thing in common with his daughter: Disney Channel is just enough simple-minded for him at the moment.

 

 

 

A mouth-watering scent appears in the air in the middle of Hello Kitty’s episode, and against Hyukjae’s will, a needy growl emerges from his stomach.

 

Suddenly there’s a little, shy giggle coming from his right side. It keeps ringing in his ears wildly, making his head ache in an odd way. That girl really surprises him at the most unpredicted times. He coughs and tries to get the sound off his head, when he leans against the armrest and turns to look towards the origin of the scent of food. He hasn’t eaten anything proper in the whole day, and although he’s used to being so lazy about it, the hunger sometimes seems to be able to knock him off his senses. But it’s like a bright light at the end of the tunnel when Donghae finally says the magical words.

 

“It’s ready.”

 

“Oh thank god,” Hyukjae groans and slides off the couch, waltzing to the kitchen, where Donghae is just filling the last plate with something that looks pretty much like bipimbap. It’s simple, but Hyukjae’s too hungry to think more into the details anymore. His kitchenette is relatively small, and there’s just a tiny square table and two stools around it.

 

“Do you have more chairs?” Donghae asks, bringing the plates over the table.

 

“No,” Hyukjae mutters, engrossed in nothing but his own needs.

 

“You take the girl on your lap then.”

 

Hyukjae stops following Donghae and the plates immediately. “What? Why me?”

 

“Because she trust you more than me. Don’t ask me why though, I don’t understand it either, but I barely got her to calm down after you left…”

 

“Wait, what?” He doesn’t get it now.

 

“Oh, yeah… She got pretty upset when you left to the grocery store, but I managed to calm her down because I said you were going to come back soon,” Donghae explains and pours some milk into a smaller kind of glass; like it's not even a big deal.

 

“You’re kidding,” Hyukjae mumbles, a bit incoherent.

 

“Like, you’re the last person I could trust that easily,” Donghae grunts quietly, and the sentence is barely loud enough for Hyukjae to hear.

 

The irritation is there again.

 

“I really didn’t thought you’d turn up to be such an asshole,” Hyukjae snarls, and leaves to get the girl, who’s still focused on looking at the white kitty in pink. He leaves the TV on, but squats in front of the girl. “Let’s go to eat?”

 

Jaemin nods in approval, and Hyukjae awkwardly curls his hands under her armpits and hurtles her into to the little kitchen.

 

 

 

It still surprises Hyukjae how easy the girl seems to be. She might just be overly courteous and afraid to do anything that would upset him—Hyukjae wonders why—but it makes at least one thing not so much of a struggle. She’s even able to use the spoon by herself, and there’s some rice and other ingredients along the table after that, but he’s just glad it wasn’t any harder.

 

When he’s sitting on the couch again with the girl—after a debate who’s going to do the dishes (which he won because he didn’t care about dishes that much)—he pulls out his phone and takes a look at the clock. It’s almost 8pm, and Hyukjae’s already eager to leave the house as he promised to Taehyung a little over an hour ago. It’s all manageable whilst he stares at the TV, and his thoughts actually leave him alone for a moment.

 

Donghae seems like he has peas pulled into his nose again. He keeps glaring at Hyukjae from time to time, which the older luckily doesn’t see, because the kitchen settles behind his back.

 

It takes ten minutes for Donghae to finish the dishes before he appears into the living room, looking somewhat tired. Not in the most physical way, but more tired of just over a thing.

 

Probably me.

 

Donghae eyes the girl next to the older, and briefly there’s a little smile on his face that surprises Hyukjae. It’s obviously given to the girl, but when he’s around it is always harder thing to achieve.

 

“She’s going to fall asleep any moment,” Donghae notes with a bit softer tone again. “Where do I put her to sleep?”

 

Hyukjae stares at the TV.

 

“She can sleep in my bedroom. There’s a mattress on the floor.”

 

Donghae bites his lips.

 

“And I?”

 

The brown haired turns to give him a look. “You sleep there too. It’s big enough for two.”

 

"Right.”

 

“I can sleep on the couch.”

 

Jaemin’s eyelids are already closed, and Donghae goes to take her to carry her to bed, since she’s already asleep or at least very close to that, and she probably wouldn’t even notice. Donghae starts to walk towards the only bedroom, but he stops when he hears Hyukjae’s voice.

 

“I’ll look for Jiah tomorrow,” the man mutters. Donghae doesn’t answer, and when he takes another step away from him, he stops again when Hyukjae opens his mouth for the second time. “I think I’m going for a walk. I need some fresh air.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He frowns a little for the simple answers, and sighs when Donghae goes into the room and closes the door behind him.

 

It’s time to forget all those stupid things, though, when he takes his phone, checks that his wallet is in his pocket, and grabs his leather jacket before he exits the apartment.

 

He presses the speed dial on the screen, and pulls the device onto his ear. The line connects fast, and his eyes darken a little from knowing what is ahead.

 

“I’m on my way, Taehyung. See you in five.”

 

He couldn’t wait to get sloshed.


	5. Five

. . five . .

 

 

The welcome is the same as usual, smelling like hard liquors and cigarettes as he dodges his way through the people towards the bar in the opposite side from the entrance.  The familiar atmosphere makes him feel more at ease than would his own home at the moment. It's just too much to bear with. He tries to focus on the music; the beat, and all the early ones who are already engrossed in the deep bass, as eager to drown themselves in the song as Hyukjae wants to do with alcohol.

 

His legs lead him expertly towards the bar counter, knowing exactly where he’s going, and it doesn’t take long before he hops on top of a tall stool next to Taehyung. He wants nothing more but to erase everything from his head that has happened today. It's so absurd; for him, nothing like this was supposed to happen.

 

“What up?” the few years younger male asks before he’s even given a look towards his friend of few years already. He has a beer on his hand, but he’s drinking through a red straw, blankly staring ahead as if he’s occupied into thinking something important; important most likely including something with a pretty girl—or a guy, by all means.

 

Hyukjae doesn’t really give a damn.

 

He orders a beer for himself, shoulders a little tense and eyes gazing through the counter. His head is way louder than he thought it would be, and it pisses him off. It would probably ease his nerves if he actually told Taehyung what was going on—but how many fucks did this guy really give?

 

“Stuff,” he notes dully, staring his beer for a while before he takes a long gulp of it.

 

“That bad?” Taehyung finally gives him a scrutinizing glance.

 

The curly hair of his has obviously been dyed; Hyukjae can’t say for sure if the color is some sort of a light, ashy lilac or something entirely different (he would have to consult a girl if he wanted to know what it is actually called, but he doesn’t seriously care that much). It is, however, surprisingly fitting, he notes. For the record, last week it was orange. A month ago, dark brown.

 

“Total crap,” Hyukjae mutters bluntly. More beer disappears into his mouth.

 

Taehyung orders four shots of vodka, and puts two in front of Hyukjae.

 

“Good ol’ vodka never fails to lighten up the mood,” he declaims, taking his own shots—yes, both of them—onto his hands.

 

The older sighs, and takes one of his own to hold up in the air, a bit sad smile dominating his lips. Taehyung clinks their classes together, and pours the two into his mouth in single file with a grimace. Hyukjae follows, drowning one down his throat. The burning sensation doesn’t last too long, and he too destroys the second one.

 

The warmness spreads over his body, leaving him in a dazed state for a short while. He thinks he might already feel a little better—although, in the back of his mind, he knows it's all just illusion and dream.

 

 

 

Two hours later his whole body feels feather-light and heavy as a bile of rocks at the same time. The alcohol has started to take its toll.

 

He knows he’s at the point where he should just keep going to totally clear his head and let loose, because stopping now would only make him feel even more like shit than he already does.

 

He doesn’t resist when a beer bottle appears in front of him again.

 

Palms pressed against his temples, and sight glued somewhere faraway although he keeps staring in front, Hyukjae lets out a dry laugh.

 

“What’s funny?” Taehyung asks, not even slurring yet. His tolerance is incredible, and beats Hyukjae’s more often than not. He doesn't need to get completely wasted to get loose.

 

“Everything,” Hyukjae huffs, clicking his tongue. “My life—all of it.”

 

Taehyung looks at him warily, slowly eyeing him up and down. Hyukjae thinks the guy might see more than he lets out. Sometimes his gaze is so thorough; yet it is usually buried under his high energy and crazy antics. He could compare him to a dog that lived in the house next to theirs when he was little; it could play fetch the ball for billion times and it wouldn’t get tired of it. The guy is batshit crazy sometimes. It’s a little funny that alcohol actually calms him down.

 

He laughs again, covering his eyes with his fingertips this time, and then brushing his fingers through his hair—it's more of a habit of anxiety than boredom.

 

“Just crazy shit happening today,” he mumbles under his breath, feeling a little dizzy as he thinks further into the matter. He doesn’t want to talk about it. Hyukjae gulps half of his beer down.

 

Taehyung orders something that’s blue in color—Hyukjae never remembers the name of that drink. He notices that Taehyung is already flirting with a girl in the near distance; her dance moves on the floor are sensual, and her eyes hauled to their way. She’s pretty, but too innocent and therefore boring for Hyukjae’s liking.

 

He decides it’s time for him to get his own game on, standing off the stool. The younger turns to look at him, giving him a knowing look.

 

“Someone caught your interest?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Well, good luck then, mate.”

 

“See you around,” he notes for goodbye.

 

 

 

The sea of people is thicker than at the time he arrived. But it’s Saturday, so he’s not surprised to see the place so packed tonight either. The alcohol has finally started to dull the storm raging inside of him, and it feels like he’s finally able to breathe.

 

All he can think about for now is to find a good fuck and forget everything.

 

He’s already noticed a girl about his age; hot and all, with long legs and a mischievous glint in her eyes and lips when she smiles. She hangs with two friends, but those two aren't the same; she has red hair a bit waved at the tips and cat-like eyes made with black eyeliner—she looks dangerous, whereas her friends look just ordinary and plain. Hyukjae meets her gaze, and the corner of her lips curls up to a smirk. He knows she's on his hook, and he turns his back to her, giving a last peek over his shoulder before he returns to the bar.

 

It doesn’t take long before the female accompanies him at the bar, and Hyukjae buys her a drink in exchange for a cigarette. She says what she thinks, and doesn’t bother with unnecessary or boring small-talk; she talks like they could have known each other for a while already. Hyukjae likes that. She reminds him a little about Jiah, and although he never loved her, he admits women like her tend to get his attention.

 

They are after the same things; fun and sense of freedom.

 

When she gives him the cigarette, Hyukjae takes a long drag of it, feeling how it calms his mind for a second. It’s probably Marlboro, he thinks briefly. Smoking is just a habit he gives in when he’s drunk. More of a social thing than an addiction. She observes him curiously, ordering another round of a bit lighter drinks.

 

The events of the day has started to fade into the back, and his head is now filled with more trivial things. Things like red hair tickling his neck and hot breaths whispered against his ear.

 

“I love this song,” she says enthusiastically, grapping his wrists and beaming at him, as she tries to get him to the floor. “Dance with me! Please?” She grins widely, and Hyukjae shakes his head twice, giving her a meaningful smirk.

 

“Yah! You want to play dirty?” she inquires, pulling Hyukjae on his feet.

 

“Is that a challenge?” he asks with an almost unnoticeably slur, grinning back at her with a playful yet lusty glint in his almond eyes. She leans in to peck his lips, and then pulls him through the mass of people, amongst all other young people who have finally let loose.

 

 

 

Many songs, dances and making out sessions later Hyukjae finds himself from another unfamiliar apartment; shirtless, sweaty strands glued against his forehead, and the red head finally going down on him. He lets out a greedy moan when her tongue slides around him.

 

His head feels finally light.

 

He knows it won’t last long, so when he’s close to the peak, Hyukjae pulls the girl up and lets their mouths clash fiercely against each other again. The last remnants of her clothes are thrown to the floor right before he pushes her onto her bed and climbs on top.

 

They don’t know each other’s names. They won’t change phone numbers.

 

It's perfect.

 

 

 

It’s only an hour later when he lays on the bed, sweaty, and worn-out, when he remembers again what awaits at home.

 

 

 

The door clacks rather quietly when Hyukjae arrives to his apartment in the middle of the night. Steps unbalanced, yet head uncomfortably clear again, he tries to slide off from his jacket.

 

It’s silent.

 

He doesn’t think anyone could be awake at this hour anymore when he walks towards the living room, wishing to fall onto the couch and be knocked out immediately he lands on it. He ruffles his hair, eyes closing from tiredness, but the next second he opens them the sight makes him hiss in frighten.

 

“Bloody hell! Damn it!”

 

Donghae is sitting on the couch, other knee pulled up against his chest. He’s looking at the older angrily, hushing him to be quiet.

 

“Could you not do that?” Hyukjae groans and palms his face.

 

It's easy to sense the fact how Donghae fumes inside. The older’s not really up for a fight. He only wants to get some sleep, but Donghae’s gist foretells otherwise. Hyukjae takes a note of the unfamiliar book on top his coffee table; it must be Donghae’s, since he doesn’t read as far as he’s aware of that.

 

“Fresh air my ass,” Donghae suddenly snarls, a bit more to himself only—but it’s obvious he wants Hyukjae to hear it too. “You’re drunk aren’t you?”

 

In the nightly, blue-hued room, Donghae’s hair looks more of black than brown, and his eyes look deeper and the bags under them darker. His body looks tense, as if he’s really trying to hold onto his anger; he has his locked fingers held up covering his mouth; giving Hyukjae the cold eye, clenching his jaw and crunching his nose up.

 

“You’re unbelievable.”

 

Hyukjae doesn’t say anything. The state he’s in is probably more than clear to the other.

 

“I really can’t understand what the hell your ex has been thinking even considering you to look after your daughter,” Donghae continues, and Hyukjae has already caught up to the hateful tone. This is the emotion he’s seen in Donghae’s eyes and attitude from time to time.

 

“It’s your own child for Christ’s sake.” Donghae stares at him from under his eyebrows.

 

The thudding inside his head has gone worse. His head spins.

 

“Would you have done the same if it wasn’t for me looking after her? What would you do if I wasn’t here, huh?”

 

The feeling he got when he opened the door and realized it was his daughter standing there comes rushing back; he feels handless, wrong and hopeless. Never even thinking otherwise about his abilities to take care of her; he perfectly knows that he could be a father good enough to no one.

 

“You’re so selfish,” Donghae growls, yet he makes sure he doesn’t raise the volume of his voice too high. “You’re a selfish low-life.”

 

Hyukjae stares back to Donghae’s eyes with a wall over his emotions. He already knows this. He buries his face into his hands, taking deep breaths, but it doesn’t really help. There’s no relevant objections against what Donghae says. There’s no reason to defense himself, when everything that’s been said till now has been true.

 

It just hurts him a little to hear all these from a person who used to be his friend. A good friend; someone he really enjoyed to spend his time with, until it just…it just wasn’t anymore.

 

He doesn’t really know this Donghae.

 

“I never said I would keep her, for fuck’s sake,” he suddenly snaps back.

 

Donghae lets out a dry, cold laugh.

 

“You’re exactly as bad as everyone has always said you are.”

 

That comment makes no sense to him. Everyone? Who the hell is he talking about? The damned soccer team from high school?

 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think you know me?” the older snorts hatefully, “You think you’re all posh and perfect? Is that all you ever thought about me? That you’re better than me?”

 

Something might flicker there, but the distain in Donghae's eyes doesn’t change. He stands up slowly, closing the few steps between them as he glares Hyukjae hatefully in the eyes.

 

“I think I know more than enough,” his tone goes extremely low, “There’s not much to know about you, is there? You’re already showing me what you really are.”

 

Hyukjae grits his teeth, and pulls his fingers into fists. There’s a burning sensation in his eyes, but he tries to force himself to get back together. He’s heard similar words before; this is nothing new—just a different person.

 

“You don’t give a single fuck for Jaemin, nor anyone else. Can you imagine what it must feel like when your parents don’t want you? Think about her! You’re heartless, Hyukjae…”

 

The dizziness blurs his vision for a second, and his insides churn in agitation. He blames the alcohol when he already feels tears in his eyes—but he doesn’t let them fall, he won’t. Lips curving into a crooked, extremely miserable smile, Hyukjae lets out a short, shallow laugh.

 

“Donghae… You don’t know shit,” he notes surprisingly calmly, “I won’t even argue with you about this. Isn’t it clear that I’m a loser?”

 

Donghae frowns slightly, looking at Hyukjae suspiciously.

 

“But that I don’t get…” he mumbles, with a short pause, “that you judge me, when you really don’t know what has happened during those six years since you decided to ditch me… What did I ever did to you to deserve that, by the way?” Now, his voice slurs slightly. His brains are about to shut down.

 

There’s still no answers, but Hyukjae wants to think there’s a little hint of regret or shame when he tries to catch Donghae’s gaze from sailing to the other side, avoiding his. He has his toned arms crossed over his chest again. 

 

“Call me an asshole and all you want, but don’t you dare to think you know me when you’ve only seen the surface…” Hyukjae’s voice has gone down, it’s soft from exhaustion and emotions he’s tried to bury deep inside for a long time.

 

Donghae bites his lip, and Hyukjae knows he might have an impact on him, because he’s obviously lost a little of his confidence.

 

“Whatever,” the younger says hastily, still looking away until he has a new insult on his tongue. “You better find your ex. At least there’s no way she could be any worse than you are.” Donghae turns around, but he comes back suddenly to pick up the book he left on the small table in front of the couch.

 

Hyukjae bites the insides of his cheeks hard as he watches Donghae walk away again, swallowing the tears of frustration. It hurts. The past hurts—because he still doesn’t know what he ever did wrong to Donghae. Before that everything was great; only after half a year Hyukjae’s life started to go downfall.

 

“Good night to you too,” he mumbles darkly before he lays down on the couch and curls up to sandwich himself properly between the armrests of his sofa. Without a duvet, he settles to pull his hood over his head to keep him a little warmer through the night. 


	6. Six

. . six . .

 

 

The morning sun shines gently through the opened vertical blinds, warming up the back of his head as he silently takes in the sight of the four year old girl sitting across him.

 

She chews a spoonful after spoonful of sugar-coated corn flakes, contentedly, and entirely focused on her breakfast. Her legs dangle over the chair that’s a bit too high for them to reach the floor, and it seems like she’s fine with this; fine with everything that’s been happening around her during the past 18 hours. She hasn’t said a word, but her actions speak loud enough for him to understand.

 

His milk coffee has probably already cooled down, but he doesn’t really care as he absent-mindedly takes small sips of the liquid. His eyelids are heavy, and he lacks proper sleep, but he knows he can endure it. It’s a bit hard to focus on something like the hours he’s slept, when there’s a lot bigger issues on hand.

 

Donghae sighs after a deep inhale, letting his gaze wander through the window.

 

It’s late August. The sun’s still rising as the clock turns nine, but it seems like it’s going to rain later; the clouds keep descending lower and the whiteness has started to turn grayer. The dozens of similar concrete buildings stand broadly in the scene, the part of the city slowly starting to stir up. Everything is dull and gray-scaled, the exact opposite of the place they used to live as kids.

 

This is a part of a world he doesn’t understand.

 

At the moment everything seems almost serene and ordinary, but inside his head he can’t stop replaying the fight he had with Hyukjae last night. The rare sight of tears glimmering in Hyukjae’s eyes is an image difficult to forget, and a part of him feels ashamed because of it. It’s a fact that he’s acted unfair in the past. It’s just hard to admit it.

 

A spoon clinks against a bowl, and Donghae turns his attention back to the girl. The bowl is empty, and as Jaemin finishes her class of milk Donghae gives him a soft smile. The opened package of Frosties fights quite a bit against his own opinions of a proper breakfast meal, but he lets it slide just for today.

 

She tilts her head towards her right when their eyes meet, looking back at him in wonder.

 

Her eyes resemble quite a lot of her father’s when it comes to color and shape, but her expression is purely innocent, and a little curious. Her lips are also a little similar with Hyukjae’s, especially when Donghae reminisces back to the times when they were younger, and spending most of their awake time together. Trying to understand that she really is a daughter of Hyukjae’s is not just a piece of cake to digest.

 

He realizes Hyukjae must have been only 18 when this mistake happened.  Just two years after their friendship died out.

 

“Are you full already?” he asks then, receiving a little nod in return. “Good job.”

 

Although Donghae thinks he can read her body language enough to interact with her properly, her speechlessness puzzles him out. As far as he has any knowledge of human psychology, her selective muteness must have been caused by something that affected her in an emotional way. But he knows she’s not entirely mute, because he actually happened to see her saying something to Hyukjae back in the hospital. He just can’t come to understand why she lets her guard down with a man who doesn’t even want her in his life.

 

Jaemin remains sitting across him for a minute, twiddling the hem of her shirt before Donghae notes she’s still in her pajamas.

 

“Do you want to change clothes already?”

 

Yesterday, he did few observations whilst Hyukjae was away at the grocery store.

 

She nods brightly.

 

“You want to do it by yourself?” he asks, knowing that she’s perfectly capable of doing it alone, as she showed him yesterday when he asked the same thing. He thinks it’s also a good thing to let her do it, because doing so will help her gain confidence, and in his opinion it’s something she really needs when it goes along with praises and encouragement. She’s a shy girl, but obviously very smart and observant for her age.

 

Another nod answers his question.

 

“Go ahead then,” Donghae notes with a small curl of his lips, and it doesn’t take long until she has already climbed down the chair and gone back to the bedroom where she knows her backpack to be.

 

Yesterday he also happened to notice the few bruises on her arms, alarming him a little — but he knows it could be nothing special and just his imagination going override. Although when he saw her for the first time, her whole appearance itself already made him suspicious. But could things be so bad at home? Maybe it was just a bad day for them all; she could have caused it herself by playing without paying attention if her clothes ripped or got dirt stains.

 

How many times had he come home whilst looking like a drowned rat when he was a kid? Enough for him to think that he had only been having fun—and probably with Hyukjae.

 

He drowns his hands into his already tousled, dark hair, heaving out an exasperated sigh.

 

 

 

His phone then suddenly vibrates on the table next to his arm. He picks it up with tired, a little lousy moves, taking a look of the id of the caller. For half a minute, he only stares at it, something in him being a bit uncertain of answering even when there’s not a proper reason for that.  A part of the possible conversation is already on top of his mind, making him queasy, but he finally slides his finger over the green icon to answer.

 

He takes a breath before he says anything.

 

“Morning, Mom.”

 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” the woman greets him cheerfully; characteristically for her warm personality. It makes Donghae feel a bit more content again.

 

“I know it’s your day off and you’re free to go as you please since you’re an adult already, but I just couldn’t help myself from calling when you didn’t even send a message that you’re not coming home for the night… And usually you do,” she continues then, sounding a little worried, and Donghae realizes he indeed didn’t inform his parents in anyway.

 

Living at home has its own pros and cons—even at 23 years of age—when his parents are at home only half of the time, being required to travel a lot because of their jobs. Most of the time he has the whole house for himself. Because of that he doesn’t need to think too much about financial stuff as he studies and works part-time at the ER, still getting enough freedom as long as he informs at least his mother if he’s going somewhere when they are at home.

 

“You’re right… I’m sorry,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead, “I totally forgot. Something just came up and…” he trails off. He needs to think about this. He’s always had a good relationship with his parents, and there’s no need to lie. But this time he actually considers it, only to throw the thought off his mind immediately.

 

“Oh, that’s okay. Where are you at, then?” she asks casually, but decides to add; “I mean I don’t force you to tell, since you have your right for privacy—“

 

“Mom,” Donghae laughs half-heartedly. “It’s okay.”

 

Although a lot of things at the moment aren’t exactly ‘okay’.

 

“Oh, good then.”

 

He decides to go for the truth.

 

“Do you remember Hyukjae?”

 

“Hyukjae?” she repeats, tasting the name on the top of her tongue to remember. It’s been a while, however.

 

“Yes.”

 

It takes another minute for her to catch on, until she exclaims in surprise:

 

“Oh, Hyukjae! Yes, I do remember him. He was your best friend when you were kids, right? That nice kid from the same neighborhood—although if I’m in my right mind you were also little rascals from time to time.”

 

Her tone stays benign, and Donghae knows she’s just teasing him.

 

“Yeah, him.”

 

She hums; confused.

 

“But then you suddenly just stopped…being friends? I never knew what happened between you two…?”

 

Donghae clenches his jaw.

 

“I-I guess we drifted apart.”

 

“I see,” she notes, but her son isn’t entirely assured about the tone. Few seconds pass before she keeps going. “So, what about him…?”

 

“I…” he starts, but how is he going to explain this? Out of all people, Hyukjae decided to go to him; and out of all people, Donghae decided to help him.

 

“I’ve met him few times at the hospital when he’s come to the ER, and I’ve happened to be the one on duty to treat him,” he has to bite his lips in order to continue, “And yesterday… He came to meet me because he didn’t have anyone else to go to—a-and… It’s…pretty complicated.”

 

“Try me?”

 

She tries to assure him to keep going, but at this time of the day nothing really seems to make sense in Donghae’s head. He can’t help but sigh, and lean his face against his other palm in a sort of exhaustion. It’s all so complex.

 

“He has a… He has a daughter,” he mutters bluntly.

 

Donghae tells her mother everything he knows at the moment. He tries to keep all the details in minimum, but the fact that Hyukjae has a somewhat problematic life probably comes out clear enough, when he can’t help himself from complaining about his behavior. The woman lets him explain without interruptions, and when his son’s few minute monologue finally ends, it’s not so easy to get a word out her mouth.

 

Donghae realizes that a weight is suddenly lifted off his shoulders, and everything might make a little more sense again. Yet, a part of him is slightly scared for his mother’s reaction.

 

She eventually breaks the silence with a tiny hum.

 

“Donghae,” she says gently, “I think you’re doing the right thing. But Hyukjae hasn’t ever been a part of her life before, so how could he know how to be like a parent now?”

 

“Well, he still shouldn’t act like this—“

 

“He shouldn’t,” she retorts, “But I think you, my son, are being a bit judgmental now.”

 

“But Mom—“

 

“Son, let me say a thing or two, okay?” It’s an order, not a request. “There’s usually a reason behind people’s actions. Hyukjae seems irresponsible and reckless, but I bet it’s not just that. Have you asked how does he feel about this?”

 

He plucks his fingernails, noticing how his mother is now making him a little annoyed. She might have a point but she hasn’t seen Hyukjae, has she?

 

“No… Why do you have to be a psychologist?” he grunts.

 

His mother sighs.

 

“But he really doesn’t give a damn about the girl…”

 

“You don’t know unless you talk about it. And don’t roll your eyes.”

 

He does, anyway.

 

“So, he’s going to look after her Mother?”

 

“He’d better.”

 

 

 

The first thing Hyukjae has in mind when he wakes up is water.

 

He rolls onto his back before he has even opened his eyes, taking a deep breath; he’s pretty sure it’s damn early for his liking, but he’s way too thirsty to keep on snoring away. There’s not too much nausea this time, although he did consume quite a lot of alcohol during the night, but gladly it’s bearable. It takes a moment for him to force his eyelids open, and when he does, he regrets it. The sun is damned too bright—and why on earth would he have left his blinds open?

 

There’s no other coherent thoughts when he sits up, massaging his temples and yawning quietly before he strolls through the room to get a much needed glass of water. He rubs his face again with the ribbing of his hoodie’s sleeve, brushing the same hand through his hand to ruffle some sense to his head. It’s quiet, but he’s not awake enough to realize that things have changed when he’s not exactly alone anymore.

 

He pulls out a glass that looks somewhat clean, filling it with cold water.

 

Hyukjae has just taken the first gulp when a voice startles him.

 

“Didn’t expect you to be up this early.”

 

Donghae’s voice is monotone, but as Hyukjae turns around—half of the mouthful of water dripping down his jaw—a surprisingly neutral expression greets him. Phrases and pictures from hours prior return to his memory. He dries his face onto his sleeve, staring back at the younger man who’s sitting at the table, other leg crossed on top of the other.

 

His head isn’t really ready to function yet, but he takes a note of the more human version of Donghae who seems exactly as much as just woken up as Hyukjae. Well, maybe Donghae is a little more coherent, but seeing him in a wrinkly red IronMan shirt and ordinary college pants delights him at this point of the day.

 

“Me neither,” he mumbles out, pointing towards the other, “Nice shirt.”

 

Donghae looks down on himself the same time Hyukjae wolfs down the whole glass of water that’s still left. His so-called babysitter raises his eyes back up, but not at Hyukjae, since he looks a little self-conscious after his remark and huffs in mild irritation.

 

“Is Jaemin awake?” he asks somewhat indifferently, filling his glass again.

 

“Yeah,” the nurse empties his coffee cup with a little grimace of distaste, “Went to change her clothes few minutes ago.”

 

“Alright.”

 

A silence falls upon the men. Hyukjae puts his glass into the sink, and stays put on leaning against the counter for a minute when none of them speaks. He’s just about to go continue his sleep—he’s dead tired after all—when Donghae speaks up again. His tone doesn’t tell much.

 

“We should talk.”

 

“Should we?” Hyukjae questions, now a little annoyed and not any less reluctant. He’s not very much into talking this early, especially with Donghae.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why?”

 

Donghae gives him a look of disbelief. He then rolls his eyes, and stands up which makes Hyukjae to take a step further away from him against the counter. Donghae proceeds to take the bowl, glass and cup onto his hands, putting them into the sink. The look in the younger’s eyes tells Hyukjae not to fight it.

 

“Because we should.”

 

It’s Hyukjae’s time to give Donghae the eye-roll.

 

“Jaemin! Are you ready?” the younger suddenly hollers, calling for the girl.

 

Hyukjae’s head aches at the noise, making him growl in pain. “Could you not?”

 

He doesn’t get an answer as Donghae decides to ignore him when the girl appears on the doorway of the kitchenette with the stuffed toy in her hold again, giving her a thumbs up. It makes him wonder why.

 

She acts a little shy, until she lifts up her hand a bit higher, showing them something.

 

It’s seems like a hairband, and Hyukjae raises his eyebrows, sharing a look with Donghae who seems—for once—as awkward as the girl’s dad.

 

“You want your hair tied up?” Donghae’s voice wavers, and it could be funny if he wouldn’t have turned to look at Hyukjae after.

 

Their faces turn a little wry when Jaemin nods vigorously, but then takes her long hair into her hands and attempts to braid it—and the men try to force smiles instead.

 

“Can you—“

 

“Do you—“

 

They try to speak at the same time, both abashed; there might be a lot of differences but braiding up a little girl’s hair is neither’s forte. Donghae then squats down in front of her, looking her expectantly.

 

“You can choose who does it, ok?”

 

“Or we can both try and she’ll tell the winner?” Hyukjae suddenly suggests, and Donghae gives him a glare. “What? That’s only fair. We both suck at it anyway.”

 

“Jaemin, don’t get too upset if we don’t reach the usual standards, okay…?

 

A smile appears on her lips as she hands the hairband for the other to take first.

 

 

 

It ends up a little messy in his unexperienced hands, but he thinks it actually looks like what it should be.  He rolls the hairband around the tip of her hair when he’s done, letting out a satisfied laugh of success.

 

“Done,” he remarks with a grin, letting go of her hair and taking a step back to take a better look.

 

She’s sitting on a chair, obviously a little excited to get to know about the result too.

 

Hyukjae crosses his arms over his chest, glancing towards Donghae whose face has gone sour although it shows that he’s somewhat impressed too.

 

“Go take a look at it,” Hyukjae says to the girl, and she leaves hastily towards the bedroom where’s the apartments only proper mirror (except from the on in the bathroom but it’s too high for her).

 

He's mostly just taken it as a competition, and being too focused on that he doesn't even have time to think about how odd everything about it actually is. It might not really be that horrible, after all.

 

“You got to be bluffing,” the younger man grumbles.

 

“Well, mate, am not.”

 

Jaemin comes back with a shy grin, looking at the both adults with wide eyes.

 

Hyukjae squats down on his feet with a sly smile. “I won, right?”

 

“How is that even possible?” Donghae then interrupts, huffing in annoyance.

 

“Is someone, I don’t know… Maybe a bad loser?”

 

“I am not!”

 

Hyukjae ignores the other and shares an innocent look with his daughter.

 

“Come on, tell me who’s the loser from the two of us.”

 

She inhales dramatically, glancing at the males as if the whole matter is something very important, until she points her index finger cautiously to Donghae’s way.

 

“How does someone like you excel in doing braids?” Donghae snarls towards the older, who needs to force himself from laughing.

 

“You’re still as bad of a loser as you used to be,” Hyukjae notes, standing up from the floor. Donghae still seems to be fuming about this, not believing the fact that the braid Hyukjae did was almost looking like a normal one. But after his words, the nurse bites his lips, somewhat forcefully.

 

It’s surreal how he’s able to forget the single fact that they’re not friends anymore.

 

 

 

 

After his comment they haven’t really shared a word other than Donghae pressing him to find Jaemin’s mother.

 

For once he’s doing what he says.

 

It’s been three hours full of desperate phone calls to friends, and friends of friends’, and acquaintances and people he barely knows by name. He’s tried the number service, but Jiah’s phone number and address remains hidden.

 

He thinks he’s not going anywhere whilst speaking with an old acquaintance from the year after high school, who he has met only once, if even that, when the man on the other end of the line actually claims that he knows where she lives these days.

 

The guy says she’s not that close with Jiah herself, but knows her current boyfriend; and therefore has visited the place where they are supposedly living now.

 

It feels like a bomb is ticking on the bottom of his stomach when he hastily writes the address down with shaking hands, ending the call as the man says he has to go. He remains sitting on the floor of his bedroom for another five minutes, staring at the written address without knowing how to really feel like.

 

Is this it...? 

 

Ten minutes after he finally gets himself on his feet, walking to the living room where Donghae sits reading a book beside Jaemin who’s engrossed in the cartoons going on TV. The younger man lifts his gaze, raising his eyebrows questionably.

 

He stares at Donghae with round eyes, not knowing what the emotions churning unpleasantly inside him are actually trying to say.

 

The words almost gets stuck on Hyukjae's throat.

 

“I-I found her.”


	7. Seven

. . seven . .

 

 

The address echoes inside his head on repeat.

 

“I’m coming with you,” Donghae suddenly notes as Hyukjae is already halfway putting his shoes on. Donghae leans shoulder against the wall, hands crossed loosely over his chest as he stares back at Hyukjae with an unreadable expression. The brunet doesn’t even realize how anxious he actually is. Now he knows where Jiah lives. This is going to be over soon, and everything will return back to normal. But as far as he remembers the last time he briefly met Jiah two years ago, he’s starting to have his doubts. At least back then, she wasn’t any more of a mother-person—even less than she’d ever been.

 

Knowing both Jiah’s and Donghae’s personalities, in his opinion taking Donghae with him doesn’t sound like a good idea.

 

“Why?” he then asks, giving a look towards the man who doesn’t really belong here, in his apartment. It’s weird to see Donghae around; at point it’s bearable and the next second Donghae’s already on his throat. And Hyukjae doesn’t like that. It doesn’t need a genius to understand how the younger man so greatly looks down on him—and he wouldn’t if it wasn’t because of his daughter. Without him things would have already ended up as disaster. Yet it seems like it’s still too much.

 

There’s an uncomfortable feeling down on his stomach as he pulls the other sneaker on his foot, and it’s almost like his whole body is upset about something; hangover or something else, he can’t really decide. It’s still unpleasant.

 

“Because this could be just another attempt of yours to run away,” Donghae retorts, lips in a thin line.

 

Hyukjae grunts in annoyance and stands properly up to face the man, who has changed his IronMan shirt to a white v-neck, and jeans. In his eyes Donghae is exactly everything he’s not; neat and polished in every way possible. It’s a miracle that Hyukjae even found the strength to struggle himself to shower and change into his current clothes of a simple black shirt and ripped skinny jeans.

 

He gives the other a hard glare—because Donghae is already doing the same at him. It’s not a question so he doesn’t need to answer; he keeps his mouth shut until Donghae is already on again.

 

“Do you even have an idea what are you going to do since you get there, then?” Donghae continues, scrutinizing Hyukjae’s entire being, obviously suspicious about his every damn move.

 

“Well, talk her to take the kid back?” he hisses, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dark denim jeans, shoulders tense and clenching his jaw. It might seem like Donghae pisses him off—although it’s actually not the other that exactly is the reason of his irritation. The nervousness is starting to get to him and it’s already pushing him on the edge.

 

There’s an abstract silence, as if it’s full of unsaid thoughts when they keep staring at each other. Hyukjae’s head buzzes. He really wants to get out of here.

 

Hyukjae proceeds to take his jacket from the racket—which Donghae must have put there—ready to leave and make things right.

 

“What if she refuses to take her back?” The voice now cutting through the air is different than before, low and more uncertain, questioning and doubtful.

 

As Hyukjae ogles him and tries to get the meaning between the lines, the uncomfortableness only increases. Should he be offended about Donghae’s indifferent yet critical glares, compared to the actual feeling of being badly off track with his actual thoughts, not least emotions? Everything that crosses his mind, he hastily tries to push back, because it’s too much. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do if she’s not going to take Jaemin back. He hasn’t thought about that. What if she really refuses? What is he going to do, really? Exactly knowing what his ex-girlfriend is like, it doesn’t even sound absurd. But it’s not a possibility in his mind. Nevertheless, the thoughts ignite cold shivers to run over his skin, creeping him out.

 

Hyukjae unconsciously turns to have a look of the girl that’s currently seated on his couch with her stuffed toy held in her embrace. Four years and it’s the second day he’s ever been with her.

 

“Well?” Donghae inquires, watching Hyukjae closely.

 

It feels like his head is full of sawdust, and not anything that would make sense is apparent anymore.

 

“We take your car then,” Hyukjae mutters, ruffling his slightly moist, messy hair. Why does it feel like the air is running out? “Let’s get going so we can get over with this…”

 

“We have to take the girl too,” Donghae says matter-of-factly, turning towards the living room’s way. “Jaemin! Come here,” he calls out for her, of course receiving no soundly answers.

 

“Right. Can I go first and wait you outside?” Hyukjae asks impatiently, already gripping the handle of the front door.

 

“I guess you're not for any help here either. Do you have the address?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Donghae mutters and leaves to turn the TV off as Jaemin climbs down the couch.

 

Hyukjae leaves before another word is said, anxiously closing the door after him. Donghae only manages to catch a glimpse of his retreating back. With a deep sigh, he turns his attention to the girl who’s now watching at him with wide-eyes as he closes the screen.

 

“We’ll go for a little ride, okay?” he explains, realizing that she starts getting anxious too now that Hyukjae isn’t around anymore. “Hyukjae is waiting us outside. Can you put on your shoes by yourself?”

 

With a nod she goes ahead, and for just in case, Donghae drifts by the bedroom and takes her backpack with him. Jaemin has her shoes neatly on her feet already, and he gently decides to praise her for it. She shares him a shy smile, and it is able to make Donghae both impressed and contemplative; she does so many things on her own, that her independence puzzles him. Not all 4 year olds are so willing nor obedient to do as they’re asked to without any help. He might even find her overly cautious and ready to do all those things by her own, as if she’s a little afraid of something. Once again, he’s unsure if it’s just Jaemin’s personality or an effect of something else—and if it’s an effect, then it could not have been caused by Hyukjae. So what options does it leave him? He refuses to think these things further, and brushes the thoughts off his mind, as he gently hurries Jaemin out of the door as they leave the apartment.

 

 

 

The car ride is quiet except from Donghae’s navigator babbling him the directions. It’s almost an half an hour ride to the area where Jiah lives, and when they get closer, everything slowly turns into grim, unapproachable grayscales. The neighborhoods give an even more distrust-inspiring feeling than the ones where Hyukjae himself lives.

 

The knot down on his stomach also grows thicker.

 

The brunet doesn’t know what he’s expecting to happen. It’s impossible to say, although the bad feelings worsens every minute, confusing him. He’s about to get rid of the kid, but there’s this voice in the back of his head, threatening him that there’s more to come.

 

The seat feels uncomfortable, the air heavy and dry, and all the noises of the car’s tires turning against the road sound extremely loud in his ears.

 

What is he supposed to think, or feel like? Is it supposed to feel like he’s drowning?

 

Suddenly the car halts, and is being parked on the edge of street.

 

“This is it?” Donghae asks with a strained tone, glancing outside through Hyukjae’s window. He stares back at Donghae with anxious eyes, noting that Donghae doesn’t seem relaxed either. His eyes then wander back to his own side, and he grabs the handle of the door, knuckles turning white.

 

He’s about to take a look of his daughter, who’s sitting at the backseat with her dog, but he decides not to.

 

“I guess so.”

 

The two-floor apartment building on their right has probably been pearl white back in the good old days, but now everything has already fallen into disrepair. It doesn’t seem like a nice place for a kid to live.

 

Hyukjae closes his eyes and clasps his hand harder around the handle, ready to go, but Donghae interposes again.

 

“What are you going to say?”

 

“I don’t know,” he grunts, opening the door and stepping out of the car. He doesn’t wait for answers when he slams the door after him as he’s already occupied on inspecting the surroundings; there’s two staircases and four doors in total, two of them being at the ground level. The note on his hand indicates she lives in the one on the down right, only a fifty meters of gravel away. The blinds on the windows are closed, and there’s nothing personal to see outside the apartment other than few jars occupying as ashtrays and emptied glass bottles on a row.

 

A car’s door is being opened behind his back as he stares ahead towards the house, feeling alarmed and uneasy, because his consciousness keeps nagging at the back of his head. He could guess Donghae has stepped out of the car to observe the situation, and it doesn’t make him feel any less difficult.

 

Oh, bollocks. Stop thinking about nonsense crap and get the kid back to her mother. Keep it together, Hyukjae, he orders himself, and despite not being very delighted to meet Jiah, he walks to the door, stops behind it, and knocks for four times.

 

He winces when the door opens after a half a minute.

 

A taller man with a pale looking face with red rimmed eyes stares at him, reeking like cigarettes and maybe alcohol and probably something more. He might not be much older than Hyukjae, but he’s precisely even more stray-looking than he is.

 

“What do you want?” the man grunts coarsely, leaning against the doorjamb and seeming quite a lot irritated.

 

A darker and colder expression rises to Hyukjae’s face although inside he’s more uncertain than he lets out.

 

“Is Jiah here?” he grumbles nonchalantly, gritting his teeth. The man opposite to him narrows his eyes, gripping the doorframe tighter.

 

“Depends on who’s asking,” the man answers. In Hyukjae’s opinion he could be handsome if he took a little more care of himself. His eyes are dazed, and his short, pitch black hair messy.

 

“An ex.”

 

“Who is it?” another voice soon interferes, and Hyukjae could recognize the voice anywhere. Jiah appears behind her apparent boyfriend, opening the door wider. When she notices Hyukjae standing in front of their door, she freezes for a second before a strained “Hyukjae” escapes from her lips.

 

She doesn’t look very good.

 

Hyukjae takes a closer look of her disheveled appearance, the same type of reddish eyes and paler face as her boyfriend’s. It seems like she’s lost weight. In fact she looks awful.

 

“Hyukjae?” the man repeats, and Jiah pushes her hand onto his chest, pushing him back inside. “That kid’s father?”

 

“Minho, get inside, okay,” she orders, and she sounds tired, but even more like she’s pretty out of it.

 

The man grunts in dissatisfaction, but slowly, he disappears back into the apartment. Jiah takes his place against the doorframe, and Hyukjae notes the hollowed cheeks and chapped lips.

 

“You look like shit,” he suddenly retorts, receiving an annoyed huff back. She smells strongly like cigs and other stuff he’s able to recognize. The churning down on his stomach starts again.

 

“What do you want,” Jiah hisses then.

 

“What do I want?” the brunet asks in disbelief, “You gotta take the girl back, that’s what I want. I’m not gonna keep her.” His breath hitches as he talks, eyebrows furrowing in half-anger and irritation.

 

“You can’t just drop her behind my door like that!” he continues, pointing swiftly towards the car.

 

“Is she with you?” she asks, trying to catch a glimpse with eyes of a deer in the headlights.

 

“Where else would she be?” the one year older man snarls. He really didn’t expect Jiah to be in this kind of a state. She’s never gone so low before. It makes him wonder how long she’s been into something stronger than mere cigarettes and alcohol. “What were you thinking? Do I seem like a parent to you? Didn’t I make it clear that I’m not going to be involved!” his tone goes higher as the volume raises slightly.

 

“I can’t keep her here!” the woman snaps back. “She’s on the way. There’s not enough money—“

 

Hyukjae snorts in disbelief. “You kept her for four years and suddenly you can’t anymore?”

 

“You don’t get it—“

 

“What do I don’t get? What is it? Him?” he needs to recall for the man’s name for a second before he keeps going, “Minho? He doesn’t like kids or what?”

 

“She’s a nuisance!” Jiah exclaims, almost yelling at him, but Hyukjae’s not unfamiliar with it. She always had a temper as does he, and it was evitable that they clashed from time to time. However, this is not exactly what he’s expected to hear.

 

He’s getting angry and frustrated.

 

“What are you getting these days, huh? Ritalin?” he asks with an even lower growl.

 

It’s the first drug that comes to his mind, because she already used it in after she got out of high school. At first, it was just a prescribed medication for her concentration issues in school—but sometimes it got out of hand. He knows what it is, he’s tried it once, but he’s always known where to draw the line. He knows too many lost cases because of drugs.

 

She looks like she hasn’t slept for days. Her pupils are dilated and she’s already panting.

 

“I can’t keep her! She’s always on the way, I’m tired of looking after that kid. There’s not enough money for even the two of us.”

 

“How could that be?” he asks sarcastically, eyes narrowed and jaw extremely rigid as he clenches his teeth together.

 

“I don’t want her! You’re her father, you should take responsibility! I didn’t sign up for this!”

 

“Neither did I!” Hyukjae yells. “I made my opinion about this very clear four years ago, but you decided to take the wrong way!”

 

Despite what he’s saying, everything’s starting to get clearer.

 

“Look at you,” he grimaces at her, “I didn’t think you’d ever go this low. How long have you been like this? Has the girl been around every time you’ve been high?”

 

“Now you’re judging me?” Jiah laughs dryly, “Don’t make me laugh, Hyukjae.”

 

“Are you fucking serious?” He’s getting really, really upset. The first thing in his mind is not even the matter that he’s supposed to return Jaemin anymore. He can’t really believe things have gone this bad. He doesn’t know how much Donghae has heard. He doesn’t really care. His head is even more of a mess than it was mere fifteen minutes ago.

 

“Now you’re on her side, huh? I’m the bad guy now, aren’t I?” she yells, taking a grip of the front of Hyukjae’s shirt. “You come barging in here saying that you don’t want her, and the next second you’re against me?”

 

“I never thought you’d be like this! I didn’t know she had to live with your shit too!”

 

Even if she doesn’t want his daughter in his life, even he realizes this is not a proper place for a growing kid to live. She doesn’t deserve to live with a mother whose life turns around the matter of getting high, because it’s all she thinks anymore. She doesn’t deserve to live in a place where the first thing where all the money goes is for drugs, and not for proper food and other stuff a kid needs. Jaemin doesn’t need to see her mother getting hallucinations because of the drug, nor get abandoned when she starts getting withdrawal symptoms.

 

For all he cares, it’s just not fair.

 

“Different thoughts about leaving her here, is there? What are you gonna do now, Hyukjae? Take her in, as I asked? Oh you would do so much better than me, knowing you,” she goes with her sarcastic and ironical tone that is more serious than Hyukjae is used to. She seems frustrated, and her eyes glimmer in unshed tears. Hyukjae knows she hates letting her emotions out as tears, and he knows it’s not going to turn any better if she actually starts crying. Knowing her, she’s only going to get worse from here.

 

He crasps her wrists, trying to get her angry grip off himself.

 

“You think you can handle her? You think you’d be any better than me? What are you going to do alone, huh? Or do you have someone who’s gonna play a nice little mom to her now?” she inquires, starting to get very incoherent. Her behavior is starting to get oppressing; the whole situation is as fucked up as it could ever be.

 

“You’re not making any sense!” Hyukjae bawls out, pushing her off him.

 

“You’re going to play home now? As far as I know you, Hyuk, you’re not any better than me. You’re not any better! Who’s gonna be a mother figure for her instead of me? ”

 

“At least I don’t do drugs, for fuck’s sake! Get off me!”

 

She lurches backwards.

 

For five seconds, neither of them says a word. But then she glances over his shoulder, towards the car and probably ends up actually seeing the girl sitting inside the car. It’s not Jaemin that she gives her attention towards to, though.

 

“Who is he?” she asks. She’s starting to sound mad.

 

“Who?”

 

“Well, that car definitely doesn’t belong to you. Who is he?” she repeats again, more agitated every second. She seems like she’s lost control a long way ago.

 

Hyukjae glances towards the car, seeing Donghae standing beside the front of the car, arms crossed and expression serious, almost concerned what’s going on. This is definitely not looking very good in his eyes.

 

“Oh, fuck you, Hyukjae,” she suddenly claims, “Of course you wouldn’t be able to take care of her alone.”

 

“What?” he narrows his eyes, extremely pissed off about her bitch-fit. He really didn’t believe things could be this bad.

 

“You sleeping around with guys now, too?”

 

“What the fuck?” he almost yells, desperate. “For Christ’s sake, Jiah, you are out of your fucking mind. What the fuck happened to you? I didn’t thought you’d be this stupid. You’ve lost it. You promised you wouldn’t, don’t you remember?”

 

He remembers a clear night years ago, when they made a promise that neither of them wouldn’t lose the game to drugs or anything worse than alcohol. Their fun wasn’t supposed to last forever, and Hyukjae never wanted anything like this to happen. She was always the more erratic one, the one who was too daredevil for her own good, and he was afraid something like this could happen someday. That's why he ever made her promise.

 

But this is the day the promise is no longer valid to him.

 

The tears run down her hollowed cheeks now, and she’s obviously on the bottom of her emotions already.

 

“I didn’t promise anything to you!” she hollers, raging. Her tears seem bittersweet, and her words are clear lies.

 

Hyukjae feels the burning sensation in his own eyes too, but it’s all for lost hope, lost friendship and lost memories that used to have good pieces along the way. It was good as long as it lasted, but it’s now over.

 

“Get the fuck out of here,” Jiah cries, the previous power from her voice disappearing. “I don’t want to see you again. I don’t want to see the girl either. Get the fuck out my life!”

 

“Jiah, listen—!”

 

It’s useless. She pushes him backwards, but he doesn’t lose his balance; she doesn’t have enough strength to make him fall.

 

“Get lost!”

 

“Jiah, come on—!”

 

“I don’t want to see you two ever again!”

 

 

 

It happens too fast for him to realize what she’s about to do.

 

She grabs something from the ground, and in no time something painfully hits Hyukjae’s head. For a moment he feels like he’s going to black out.

 

He falls backwards on the ground, growling in pain as his head spins horribly around. He hears a distant sound of his name being called, but it’s muffled and he can’t get it clear in his head. Something starts dripping down from his temple. As he touches it, it feels warm, and as he brings his fingers in front of his blurred sight, he notes the redness on his fingertips. His head aches like fuck, and he can’t really keep his eyes open for a minute.

 

The door is closed, and Jiah is gone.

 

“Hyukjae!”

 

The brunet palpates the ground around him with his other hand, hissing as something sharp meets his skin. After a moment his head starts to get back to its senses, and he cautiously open his eyes, despite the horrible throbs on his forehead.

 

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, trying to stand up as he now hears rustling from behind him.

 

“Hyukjae! Are you all right?” Donghae suddenly appears beside him, clasping on his shoulder to get a better look of his face.

 

“God damn it, that bitch,” the older grumbles quietly, wiping some of the blood off on his fingers and then onto the side of his jeans. The liquid drops over his left eye, and forces him to close it.

 

“Let me look,” Donghae nags impatiently, crowding out Hyukjae’s hair around the wound. He tries to ignore Donghae’s fingers trying to push his own away, but he consents eventually as the younger keeps huffing at him in irritation. “I’m only trying to help, you moron. Let me take a look at it.”

 

He exhales in exasperation.

 

“So she throw a plate onto you,” the other male states somewhat calmly, but a bit bewildered, maybe even a bit amused.

 

“Great,” Hyukjae growls, “Fucking great.”

 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to see how many stitches you need this time.”

 

Hyukjae’s a little taken aback by the sudden care—gentleness, even.

 

Standing on his feet makes him feel dizzy again, and as his head feels like a tornado in a thunderstorm, he grabs his hand onto the closest thing he finds, which is Donghae’s arm.

 

“You feel dizzy?” the nurse asks, a little warily.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

There’s a short silence, until Donghae lets his hand fall off Hyukjae’s temple and he gives a fast glance towards the closed door.

 

“It didn’t seem to go very well.”

 

“You don’t say,” Hyukjae sighs. Why is everything so messy? It was messy already at the start, now it’s even worse. “She’s…” He doesn’t know what to say.

 

“I heard… Most of it,” Donghae comments shortly. Hyukjae stares at the ground, trying to keep himself steady. “Let’s head back… We have to clean that wound and I probably need to give you a few stitches again. Can you walk straight?”

 

“Don’t fuck with me now, Donghae. I can walk on my own.”

 

“Alright.”

 

The car is still a bit blurry in his eyes, but he eventually gets to the passenger’s side and grips on the door. Donghae observes him from the other side before he sits in the car after him.

 

Donghae starts the engine, and the vehicle hums as it starts.

 

“How’s she…?” Hyukjae turns to take a look to the backseat, but his head throbs in pain again and he has to turn back and hold his head. “Shite…”

 

“Shh,” Donghae hushes, “She fell asleep before anything crucial went on.”

 

Hyukjae’s head might hurt like a bitch, but he knows he’s deep in the shit now. The girl’s mother is out of the options.

 

“What the hell I’m gonna do now,” he hisses, leaning the good side of his head against the cold windowsill, hoping that it would ease the pain.

 

“Let’s think about that later. I need to get that hard head of yours done,” Donghae mutters, “I need to stop at home first, though. It doesn’t take long.”

 

“Whatever. Just be quick,” the older says tiredly, trying to shut off the traffic inside his pained head.

 

Still…

 

What the hell is going to happen from now on?

 

I'm so screwed.


	8. Eight

. . eight . .

 

 

“Aw shit, why can’t this bleeding stop already?”

 

A knowing look dominates Donghae’s face as the other man tries to press over the wound with a found napkin. Not really succeeding in his attempts.

 

“Head has the highest number of blood vessels in human body, you know,” Donghae then answers casually. He receives a snort in return.

 

“Thanks for the information, Sherlock,” Hyukjae grunts, grimacing at himself when he takes a look of the wound through the mirror. The napkin on his hand is only getting redder, and since a lot of it has flown through the side of his face, it looks worse than it really is.

 

Hyukjae stares outside. The sky is getting lower, and he knows it’s going to rain.

 

“You asked,” Donghae says, probably not being very smart when it comes to playing with fire called Hyukjae.

 

The brunet listens to the soft hum of the car. Usually, it would calm him down and make him feel sleepy and drowsy; but today it’s only just a hum, a nervous hum, and he thinks it wouldn’t be so oppressing if it actually rained.

 

“It was a rhetorical announcement of increasing irritation and annoyance, which I was not looking forward to be answered,” the brunet states, cheekily. It is more of easing the tension and teasing Donghae, since for him it’s still a little difficult to let the reality sink in.

 

He didn’t really expect to have a plate thrown to his head either, to be honest.

 

“Got it,” Donghae mutters, trying to stop the corner of his lips from quirking upwards.

 

The tension still lingers around, but Hyukjae tries to ignore it. It’s so much easier to not to think the matter too much now when his head aches like hell and he doesn’t feel really good.

 

It doesn’t take many minutes until Donghae steers the car into the yard of a nice town house. It’s not the same area they used to live in as kids; the house is a lot newer and the area is in overall relatively a lot better than where Hyukjae lives these days. He only knows that Donghae moved away when they finished high school, but he never knew where. It annoys him a bit that he’s not even surprised that they live in such a fancy neighborhood.

 

His attention drifts to the backseat, though, when he hears a tired yawn coming from that way. Jaemin seems to be waking up as she now stretches out her tiny arms and crunches her nose up the same time. Hyukjae pries his gaze away the moment he feels the bottomless pit down on his stomach again.

 

Donghae glances at them briefly, sucking his lips in thought as he notices that his mother is probably at home deducing from the fact that her car is there too. He knows he’s not getting rid of Hyukjae yet, because how would that guy survive without him now that Jaemin’s mother is totally out of question? He lets out a sigh, opening his seatbelt and rolling the words inside his mouth before he consents to the thought he has.

 

“Hyukjae,” he starts, upper body slightly turned towards him but eyes sailing elsewhere. He’s not very delighted about the idea but it might be the easiest.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Let’s go inside.”

 

“What?”

 

“All of us. Mom’s at home so she can look after Jaemin whilst I stitch you up.” Donghae hastily continues; “I don’t want your blood all over my car.”

 

Hyukjae stares with wide eyes, feeling somewhat conflicted about the suggestion. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah,” Donghae says, although it’s a lie. “I have all that stuff here anyway. Let’s go.”

 

The idea makes Hyukjae more nervous than he lets on. After all those years he’s going to meet the woman who used to be nothing but good towards him—and what kind of an impression she’s going to get now? She’s probably going to think what the hell her son is doing with someone like him. He’s always tried to make himself believe that he doesn’t care what other people think about him, but every time someone looks down upon him, the feeling of not being good enough always finds its way back to him.

 

Every time, he still tries to harden his heart so it wouldn’t hurt so much.

 

“I can carry the girl, she’s too sleepy to walk by herself,” Donghae mumbles before stepping out of the car, not waiting for any answers from the other man.

 

Hyukjae clenches his jaw before he follows out of the car. However, the black spots return for a moment, stopping him to take some support from the door. He really hates the iron and bitter smell of blood all over him.

 

Donghae then appears in front of him, holding the girl in his arms, but his eyebrows furrow lower as he watches Hyukjae struggling slightly.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yes, stop asking that,” Hyukjae grunts, closing the door. “Just a little nauseous from all that damn blood on my face.”

 

“If you say so.” Donghae starts walking towards the house, but he turns back around soon. “But seriously though, if the headache gets worse, you’ll start seeing things in two or you throw up we’re going to the hospital—end of discussion. I’ve seen these things enough at the ER, it doesn’t always end well.”

 

Hyukjae notes the expressive glare but he decides to ignore it.

 

“Whatever.”

 

Donghae sighs, turns the key in the lock and steps into the dim-lit hallway, as brief memories of him and Hyukjae suddenly rushes through his head.

 

It’s not the same house where they used to run to the dinner table to eat his mother’s jajangmyeon, nor where they accidentally made one of their Cola Rockets explode all over the kitchen. It’s not the same house where they used to laugh till they were literally crying from laughter. It was a long time ago, and things have definitely changed from those times.

 

It makes him wonder if it might even be for the best to just let go of those memories.

 

 

 

 

“Mom!” Donghae hollers as the first thing when they get inside in a bit restrained manner, as Hyukjae strolls behind him; cautiously looking around and still holding the punch of napkins against the nasty wound on his temple. Jaemin stirs on the younger’s hold, batting her eyelids in confusion as she’s still incoherent from sleep.

 

The woman appears from the nearest room, obviously not awaiting none other than his son to arrive.

 

“I was just about to call you if you—oh!” she halts on her steps, expression full of surprise as she takes in the sight—which soon changes to confusion, and then to concern. The son bites his lips, figuring out what to say. His mother ponders the same thing as she scrutinizes them closely; the little girl on Donghae’s embrace, and Hyukjae’s appearance taking her full attention.

 

 “Dear god, what happened?” she asks in bewilderment as the reality sinks in.

 

Hyukjae notes that her appearance has changed quite a lot in those six years. Her hair is slightly shorter, and there’s more wrinkles around her eyes. But she dresses like any other woman of his age, but Hyukjae recognizes in her eyes the same kindness there always used to be, but this time, it doesn’t help him feel more at ease being there.

 

“My ex,” he answers, and Donghae immediately gives him a wry look of disapproval.

 

“We could use some help, mom,” the latter interrupts before the middle-aged woman is able to say anything.

 

“Of course. What do you need?” she complies.

 

“If you could watch the girl for a moment? So I can patch this other one up.”

 

“Yes, of course," she says, smiling tenderly towards them.

 

The older male can’t wrap his head around the fact that of how calm she remains. There’s all the reasons on the table for her to lose her cool, but she doesn’t. Why isn’t she looking at him weirdly? Why is she so…normal, despite of all? Where are the odd, despising looks he’s been preparing for?

 

Donghae puts the girl down gently, and starts taking his jacket off. Jaemin eyes her father, as if she’s looking for some answers—but only to get a punch of new ones. The now wide eyes staring at him are even deeper in color than his own, and it embarrasses him that he thinks they look a little like a clear night sky. Hyukjae doesn’t have any answers for her, though.

 

“I think she could use some food,” Donghae mutters. “Jaemin, are you hungry yet?”

 

She blinks, but doesn’t say anything. Only wide, dark almond eyes stare back at him.

 

Hyukjae feels a tug on his chest.

 

“She probably won’t say even if she is,” the blood-stained brunet then says quietly. “I bet Jiah scolded her if she dared to whine about anything.”

 

Something just tells him that is exactly the way things have been. The thought makes him grit his teeth. His own parents were unfair towards him when he was having a hard time, and thinking about that Jiah might have been even worse makes him feel really sick inside.

 

Donghae’s mom furrows her eyebrows.

 

“Did she do that to you?”

 

She looks Hyukjae straight in the eyes. But there’s still none of those emotions Hyukjae is afraid of.

 

“Yeah.”

 

There’s a pregnant silence, until Jaemin suddenly pats Hyukjae’s thigh with her tiny palm. The man turns his attention downwards, looking back at the girl that stares at him with great concern.

 

“Boo boo?” Jaemin asks quietly, pointing her hand upwards; obviously meaning the not so pretty looking red trickles on the side of Hyukjae's face.

 

Her words catches unaware both of the males—especially Donghae who hasn’t actually ever heard her voice yet. He stands up in surprise.

 

“Did she just…”

 

His mother raises her eyebrows questioningly, not yet knowing all those little facts about the girl.

 

Hyukjae glances at Donghae, but doesn’t say a word. He swallows with difficulties, squatting down to her level. His legs feel shaky. Biting his lip, he gazes back to the girl. There's the feeling of dizziness again, but it could also be due to his heart that’s started beating up faster. It’s hard to understand why the girl even cares to begin with. Everything puzzles Hyukjae—nothing really makes sense. Why does she keep speaking only to him? Why does she already trusts him this much? He doesn’t even trust himself, and he knows he’s not much better than her mother, so therefore he’s not eligible to be trusted—especially in a little kid’s eyes. So, why?

 

The words get stuck in his throat but he tries to get them out. But it’s awkward.

 

“Jaemin… Could you go with Mrs. Lee? She’ll give you something to eat.” He gives the woman a little uncertain look but she nods. “You must be hungry, right? Donghae will fix me up while you get some food.”

 

The girl chews her lips, getting Hyukjae off guard as she then reaches towards his face and brushes her fingers close to the bloody part of his cheek. Hyukjae freezes, staring blankly at the girl for a moment. He’s pretty sure everything he’s able to sense is only some white noise buzzing inside the back of his head anymore.

 

“D-Donghae knows how to fix this, he’s a nurse. Don’t worry,” Hyukjae continues, all usual strength of his voice suddenly missing. By all means, it terrifies him how such a small gesture can have such an impact on him.

 

Just for her own good, it would be better if she did none of that. She shouldn’t get attached.

 

I shouldn’t get attached.

 

Jaemin purses her lips and locks gazes with Donghae, who nods once in return.

 

“Go with Mrs. Lee, okay?” Hyukjae repeats so softly he even surprises himself with it. It’s mostly due to the storm inside which he’s unable to settle, making him act divergently to his usual self. It feels like a hurricane is growing underneath the surface, all the while changing directions as everything he thinks soon gets more tangled up than they already are.

 

Donghae’s mom reaches her hand for Jaemin to take. At first she hesitates but eventually curls her fingers around the bigger ones, although cautiously. The woman gives her son a meaningful look as a voiceless request that they would talk about this later, before going to the kitchen at last, leaving the two men alone.

 

Hyukjae silently wishes she would actually understand a girl like her who most likely won’t say another word anymore—and it’s almost like Donghae’s been reading his mind when he speaks, subtly telling Hyukjae to not to worry.

 

“She’s a psychologist. She works with children too.”

 

The older clenches his jaw, standing up and drifting his eyes somewhere else than Donghae, grunting: “Just treat my damn head now, would you?”

 

Donghae rolls his eyes, sighing.

 

“Follow me, then.”

 

 

 

 

The bathroom is quite small and white, Hyukjae notes, when he follows the younger there through his own bedroom.

 

The bright light makes his head thud unpleasantly, but a familiar scent lingers into his nose—and he realizes it must be Donghae’s shower gel. He remembers the smell back from his apartment, where it felt so out of place and it took a while for him to register that it was the younger who brought the scent with him.

 

“Sit down,” Donghae states calmly, rummaging through the cupboard that seems to have a wide range anything relating to first aid.

 

Hyukjae sees the needles, and cold shivers run down his skin as he grimaces at the sight, but he sits down on the toilet obediently. Whilst Donghae prepares whatever the stuff he needs, Hyukjae takes off his leather jacket that has started to feel a little hot to keep on inside. His almond orbs follow Donghae’s hands, trying to have a glimpse of what he’s doing—although it’s nothing new for him. It’s not the first time Donghae has done this for him.

 

But when they first met at the hospital, it sure did surprise him to see Donghae as a nurse there. And since then, a question has been rolling in his mind, and he finally decides to get it out of his head.

 

“Why do you work at the ER?”

 

Donghae turns to look at him over his shoulder as he washes his hands.

 

“I’m in med school,” the latter mutters, locking eyes with the other for a second. “I work part-time there as I study.”

 

“Do you really like that?”

 

“I like helping people. And what I do matters, so I enjoy doing it,” Donghae says, putting on some medical gloves.  He then glances back to Hyukjae. “You have to bear without anesthetics.”

 

“I guess I can live with that,” Hyukjae grumbles. It’s not the pain that’s a problem. He remembers the first time he was Donghae’s patient at the emergency room. He was still half-drunk, and he might have caused a fuzz about the whole matter that Donghae was the one to torture him with needles.

 

It seems like Donghae remembers the same day, because his expression lightens up.

 

“The needles still freak you out,” he smirks.

 

“Just get it over with.”

 

“I have to clean this first though. Can you hold your head over the sink? It seems like the bleeding has mostly stopped and the cut looks pretty clean, but I need to rinse it.”

 

“Can’t I do that by myself?” the brunet grunts, although he’s already leaning over the sink, somewhat irritated.

 

“You’re just going to soak everything.”

 

“I won’t—“

 

“Please, Hyukjae. Just shut up.”

 

Donghae steps next to him, his thigh and hip almost leaning against Hyukjae’s as he bends over him to get a better view of his bloody temple. Half of that side of his ash brown hair are now a little reddish, but as the water pours over him it starts fading into the sink.

 

Hyukjae growls and winces as the cold water meets his skin.

 

“That’s bloody cold!”

 

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Stop whining. It’ll ease the pain better than warm water,” Donghae retorts, holding some of the other’s hair so they wouldn’t cover the gush. “Is your head still hurting? Nausea? Seeing in double?”

 

Hyukjae huffs in annoyance. “It aches like a headache but the nausea is starting to wear off. I’m fine.”

 

“Good, I don’t need to carry you to the hospital, then.”

 

Silence settles for a minute as Donghae keeps rinsing the wound, closely watching that it comes clean and there’s no any possible pieces of the plate’s shards left.

 

Hyukjae heavily exhales, as the cold water indeed numbs the pain. It doesn’t stop the turmoil, though. Staying quiet lets his thoughts wander, and where else would they go than to the happenings only an hour ago.

 

Truthfully, Jiah’s state didn’t even surprise him as much as it should have. He has always had that gut feeling that she could end up like this—but seeing and experiencing it in first hand makes it far too real. He cannot believe that Jaemin really had to live like that. And he doesn’t even know the details, and he doubts he’d even want to.

 

It’s just not right. Jaemin is just a kid, barely four years old.

 

The weight is heavy on his shoulders. He wants to stop thinking about it, but he can’t. He runs his slim fingers through the still dry side of his hair, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

 

“I didn’t know she was this bad,” he admits then, breaking the silence. “That kid can’t go back there.”

 

Donghae’s gaze stays on the wound as he can’t even see Hyukjae’s face properly. The male bites his lips together, trying not to grit his teeth. He knows what would be the ‘right’ thing to do.

 

“She’s not able to take care of a child,” Donghae finally says, closing the tap. He pulls Hyukjae backwards, and pushes him down to sit again. He takes a clean towel and dries the wettest parts around the wound. “The way she’s treated Jaemin can’t be better than pure child neglect. Who knows what Jaemin has really gone through?”

 

The older clenches his fist in anger. How could she? Even how bad of a father he could be, he would never intentionally or in his right mind hurt a child, neither mentally or physically. He doesn’t like kids very much, but he could never flick a finger to hurt his own daughter.

 

Hyukjae doesn’t give much of attention to Donghae’s doings until he already has the needle on his hand.

 

“I’m going to start stitching. Just few should be enough.”

 

Hyukjae grunts, not able to close his eyes even if he wants to. It stings, literally hurts, but he can manage. He’s too angry to really give a damn about it. It doesn’t take long until the younger is already finishing it.

 

“It’s done,” Donghae says nonchalantly, but he Hyukjae notices how he gets a little rigid before he speaks again.  “I think it would be the best if I made a notification to the social service about this.”

 

The sentence stings more than the stitches did.

 

But Donghae’s right. He can’t keep the girl, he can’t. Jiah is a monster for a mother, but he’s not much better.

 

“She could get a new family.”

 

“Or be placed to a foster home...or an orphanage,” Hyukjae murmurs lowly, almost inaudibly. Thinking about it only makes him feel worse. She might not even get a chance.

 

“You can’t keep her either,” Donghae says coldly.

 

“I know, and I’m not going to. She deserves better…” He says one thing, but then why can’t he get the image of wide, sad and confused eyes out of his head? Why does the thought feel so wrong when he’s supposed to feel relieved?

 

Donghae puts a bandage over the stitches, mostly having Jaemin in his mind and thinking it wouldn’t worry her so much if something is covering the stitches. The wound is already finished, but long forgotten. He robotically puts away all the needed equipment, the gloves being the last thing he throws into a waste basket.

 

“You’re all good now.”

 

“Thanks...”

 

Hyukjae takes a look at the younger man, and Donghae realizes that Hyukjae seems more defeated than he might have ever been before. The sight makes him feel conflicted. The simple word gets him to clench his jaw, because it’s not something he was prepared to hear.

 

 

 

When they are finally heading back towards the kitchen, Hyukjae’s mind is full of oppressing thoughts, but it’s nothing he’s been waiting for. An image of the girl in some sort of an orphanage, surrounded by other miserable kids waiting for someone to give them a home someday—if ever—makes his heart clench in a way that an actual thought of running away passes his mind again.

 

Hyukjae swallows, feeling as if there are burning coals inside his stomach now instead of anything else.

 

Without even noticing, they’re already in the nice and modern kitchen of Donghae’s home, and his mother is there sitting across the girl who’s occupied eating the dinner his mother has obviously made by herself. A delicious smell lingers in the room and it’s somewhat familiar, reminding Hyukjae of their childhood and the times when he had no idea what kind of a mess his life would become.

 

The woman notices them, and she almost stands up to face them, eyes full of concern; but she sighs in sort of relief when she looks at them more carefully and lets herself sit back down again. Hyukjae certainly doesn’t look as bad anymore without all the blood on his face.

 

“Are you alright?” she asks gently, eyes still examining the older man.

 

Donghae leans against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms to his chest.

 

The neutral and warm, though worried attention gives Hyukjae chills, and he doesn’t know what to say.

 

“Y-yeah,” he mumbles, bringing his hand to stroke his neck in nervousness.

 

“It looked worse than it really is,” Donghae notes, “It might not even leave a scar if it heals properly.”

 

“I’m glad,” Donghae’s mother sighs in relief. “It’s really nice to see you again, Hyukjae. It’s been a long time,” she then continues, and it’s obvious she actually means it.

 

“I-It’s nice to see you too,” Hyukjae says uncertainly.

 

It confuses Donghae briefly how the other doesn’t really sound himself at all; not the usual cocky and indifferent jerk he is, and it annoys him how calmly his mother acts towards him. In his opinion Hyukjae’s still a reckless bastard when it comes to handling responsibilities—although he might have exaggerated it a bit.

 

Hyukjae almost wants to ask why isn’t she judging him, but he doesn’t dare to.

 

“Oh,” she suddenly lets out, eyes roaming around the table as she just remembered something important. “Are you hungry? There’s enough dinner left for both of you, we’ve already eaten,” she says warmly, referring to herself and Jaemin. The girl’s plate is almost empty, and it seems like she’s really enjoying the food so far, as she doesn’t seem to have time to worry anymore.

 

In Hyukjae’s eyes she doesn’t look so cautious or reserved, and it looks like Donghae’s mother has been able to get her comfortable enough to eat. For him, it’s a small relief, although all the unfair treatment she must have gone through makes him inaudibly curse Jiah again.

 

Donghae gives him a look of question, shrugging, and taking a glass for himself from the cupboard, comfortably filling it with water.

 

Hyukjae bites his lips.

 

“I, uh… It’s enough the kid got something to eat,” he mutters, voice wavering, “Thank you for that, we weren’t really invited, after all…”

 

Donghae starts coughing erratically, soon trying to calm himself. It baffles him Hyukjae even has any manners to begin with, but then he hears his mother’s words echoing inside his head again, and his head suddenly goes blank.

 

“Oh, Hyukjae, don’t be silly! It’s totally fine, there’s really enough food for you all. There would be too much leftovers just for me and Donghae since his father is on a trip again,” she blabbers, standing up to get more utensils for them. “Just sit down and make yourself at home.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Donghae coughs one last time.

 

It strikes him that his mother might actually be right about him.

 

When they were younger Hyukjae was a good kid. He was as polite as any kid would, and it’s only after their separation Donghae has started to think otherwise. He’s just heard rumors during the last years of high school. Rumors. If he himself ended their friendship, how could he have known what was actually true and what was not? Of course, Hyukjae has changed, it is a fact—but has he really to that extent what the younger only assumes he has?

 

It’s a hard fact to swallow.

 

The nurse turns to stare at Hyukjae, whose eyes show how anxious and perplexed he actually is, before he finally consents to Donghae’s mother’s request and sits down.

 

It takes merely a minute before there’s a full meal in front of the both guys. As they eat quietly, his gaze wanders to his daughter who has a glass of milk in her hands. She nods when the older woman asks her if she’s gotten enough of food. Hyukjae absent-mindedly chews his own meal, trying not to imagine every possible way his ex could have neglected her.

 

 

 

Even after hours, when he lies awake on his couch at 4:21 in the morning and Donghae and Jaemin have been fast asleep in his only bedroom for hours, Hyukjae can’t help but keep wondering that what if soon they no longer wouldn’t.

 

Where would she end up to? In an orphanage? In a foster home? Would she ever speak another word again?

 

Would she be loved…?

 

And as the hours pass by, one by one, his head hasn't shut up even for a moment. When the morning arises, it's finally raining, and Hyukjae might have just made a decision that would change the direction of his life. Better or worse, he wants to hope for the best.

 

I'm fucking crazy... But she is my daughter.


	9. Nine

. . nine . .

 

 

The sight in front of him gives him an unfamiliar feeling down on his stomach as he leans against the doorjamb with heavy bags under his almond eyes. Three hours has most likely been all the sleep he has gotten during the night, and it almost makes him wonder if he’s actually still sleeping, and this is only a piece of a strange dream.

 

But he knows he’s not dreaming, and as the girl under the other end of the mattress sighs in her sleep, startling him from the myriad of thoughts that has been occupying his mind for the whole night, he hastily closes the door of his bedroom. His breaths are suddenly superficial and rushed when he leans against the cold door and closes his eyes, slowly sliding down against it and sinking to sit on the floor.

 

Hyukjae bites his lips and crushes his eyes closed, shaking his head as the sight keeps flashing in the back of his head. It’s his stomach that reacts to this the most, and the churning won’t calm down even when his breathing finally calms down to a normal level.

 

Is he really doing this? Is he really ready to change the course of his life, and start acting like he should have a long time ago? Is he ready to be a father to a four year old little girl?

 

In the midst of his turmoil, he suddenly hears a familiar voice repeating words he heard just a night ago.

 

He was standing in the hallway of Donghae’s home, waiting for him to come back down from his room where he had left to pick up some clothes for the next day. Jaemin was standing close to him, her little fingers grasping to the hem of his leather jacket. She never hesitated to claim some support from him, which scared Hyukjae a lot. They had been waiting for a minute already, when Donghae’s mom then suddenly emerged from the kitchen with a plastic bag on her hand, lifting it towards Hyukjae with a smile on her face.

 

“Take this.”

 

“What is it?” Hyukjae asked, not sure how he should have been feeling. At all. He had been quite out of it thorough the whole dinner, and he still wasn’t exactly back to his usual senses.

 

“Some leftover food for you three,” she said with a calming tone, which did all but calmed Hyukjae at this point.

 

“Why?” he asked, voice wavering and throat feeling horribly dry. His eyes were wide, cautiously staring at the middle-aged woman whose behavior he still couldn’t understand.

 

“It’s not easy,” she started, her expression confusing Hyukjae. “It takes a lot to be a parent. It’s never what you expect it to be. There’s always something coming along, and each day teaches you something new. I have two kids, but trust me, no one is a born master, even in parenting. Goodness, how insecure I was when our first, Donghae’ older brother was born. Me and my husband were young, and all fingers and thumbs when Donghwa filled our life. It felt like we did nothing right. Every day we had to face that feeling, but at the end of the day, we knew all the obstacles would be worth the struggle.”

 

Hyukjae stared at her, mouth agape, feeling a lump up on his throat.

 

She gave him a smile, a warm smile so honest he had to bite his lips between his teeth to keep calm. She wasn’t judging him – it was as if she actually believed in him, even when she didn’t say a word directly at him, until the few small words that weren’t much, but still meant more than he first expected.

 

“You’re a good man, Hyukjae.”

 

He couldn’t get a single word out of his mouth, when Donghae finally rushed down the stairs and immediately went to pull his shoes on, rambling something to his mother, which Hyukjae couldn’t make any sense of. He was too distracted.

 

“Shall we go then?” Donghae turned towards him, eyes surprisingly neutral and without a hint of his usual scorn.

 

The brunet was only able to nod, feeling his forehead thudding again. Was it the stitched wound or everything else, he couldn’t be sure.

 

“Thanks for the dinner, mom. I’ll call you later.”

 

“Sure thing. If you need anything, just give me a call, any time. And Hyukjae,” she said, eyes warm, “Remember what I just said.”

 

When they exited the house, and Donghae was walking in front of him and reaching the parked car first, he suddenly turned towards him with confused eyes, furrowing his brows. Hyukjae held the bag on his fingers, knuckles unconsciously turning white.

 

“What did she mean? What should you remember?”

 

Hyukjae opened and closed his mouth for few times, before he was able to say anything.

 

“Uh, just that I would remember to put the food in the fridge when we get home.”

 

Donghae’s frown got even deeper, and it was obvious he didn’t believe a word he was saying.

 

“Oh, really?” the younger then mumbled, quirking his eyebrow as he opened the Hyundai’s door.

 

“Really.”

 

There was no way he would have been able to get anything more coherent out of his mouth. Donghae rolled his eyes, before he sat down on the car without further prying, starting the engine.

 

Sitting in the car as they drove back to his apartment, he couldn’t get any of Donghae’s mother’s words to stop spinning inside his head.

 

Could he really be a good man…? Or a parent, to begin with?

 

He has made his decision, but how could he not be scared to death either way? He wants to give it a go, and how could he not, when every other option doesn’t sound any better?

 

She’s my daughter. My own flesh and blood.

 

Hyukjae slowly stands up and grips onto the handle of the door again. He opens it cautiously, and takes another peek of the two who are still sleeping soundly beneath the blankets. His eyes drift to the girl’s dark mop of hair that has gotten curls because the yesterday’s braids, her body otherwise wholly covered in the big duvet, making her look so small. He then turns to gaze the man sleeping on the other side: Donghae is sleeping on his stomach, face turned to Hyukjae’s way, quiet snores and snuffles emitting from his partly opened his lips. His almost black fringe covers half of his forehead, and the blanket covers only the lower half of his body, showing of the red t-shirt he’s dressed in. And he looks peaceful.

 

The whole sight is so surreal, but at the same time, it somehow manages to warm his plugged heart. The wheels in his head are turning in dispatch, and he knows trying to convince the other man is going to be just another hard crux on his way he now has chosen to take.

 

But there is no turning back anymore.

 

 

 

It’s 9:10am. The TV is blaring in the distance, the ever so cheery kids’ shows making noises that sets his mind go haywire as Jaemin has gone to watch them after eating breakfast. Otherwise it has been silent for the past ten minutes, and Hyukjae’s starting to feel terribly queasy as he’s left with Donghae sits opposite to him at the little kitchen table, sipping his coffee and focusing to the newspaper Hyukjae himself never even opens despite the fact it falls down his letterbox every single day. The younger man doesn’t give him any signs of the discussion they shared yesterday about him threatening to call the social service about the situation. It’s making Hyukjae crazy, but he has no idea how to start a conversation about it.

 

Donghae is sure to distrust his eligibility to do this, and Hyukjae honestly has no doubts about it. He’s sure to do mistakes, over and over, and probably fail sooner than later. But he can’t get it off his head that Jaemin would turn up into an orphanage or a foster home, where no one could be sure about her future. She might have to live her whole life feeling unwanted, and Hyukjae can’t make himself force her to have such a life.

 

And in contrast to what Donghae said to him before, about not knowing what it is like to be unwanted by your own parents—and truthfully everyone else too, Hyukjae knows exactly what it is like.

 

His eyes are wide as saucepans and his posture abnormally rigid, and the untouched cereals in his bowl already thoroughly soaked and softened by the milk. He has no appetite, nor any courage to open his mouth despite how loudly the thoughts are rummaging inside his still painfully thudding head.

 

Donghae then turns the page of the newspaper, causing the older to wince on his seat. The dark haired male gives him a confused look from under his ceased brows, taking a sip of his coffee and calmly putting it down before he decides to confront him. But before he says a thing, his eyes wander on Hyukjae’s odd demeanor, noticing his rugged appearance that gives out the kept late hours and minimal amount of sleep.

 

“You look like crap,” Donghae then mouths lazily, glancing back to the paper down on the table.

 

“Thanks,” Hyukjae says absent-mindedly, yet still with a hint of sarcasm.

 

The younger’s eyes drift back to him, scrutinizing him again.

 

“I’ll make the call today.” Donghae mutters. “I’ll just finish my coffee and take a shower first.”

 

Hyukjae’s jaw drops.

 

“O-oh.”

 

“You have to wait a moment before you’ll get rid of her.”

 

Open your fucking mouth, dumbass! Hyukjae almost yells at himself inwardly. But how is he supposed to tell him? How is he going to explain he has suddenly decided to keep her? Donghae is not going to be on his side on this, so how is he going to convince him otherwise?

 

Hyukjae is taken aback when Donghae, out-of-nowhere, then lets out a heavy exhale. He seems uneasy, and as if he’s struggling with something.

 

“I…” Donghae starts, stroking his arm nervously. His eyes are still glued to the paper. “I guess I owe you an apology…” He sounds somewhat reluctant, as if someone has just told him to do so, against his own will.

 

Hyukjae’s eyebrows lift higher, not believing what he’s actually hearing. Donghae apologizing? Him?

 

“W-what?” he splutters back.

 

Donghae face flushes. The older could swear he’d like to take back his words this very instant because of it.

 

“You might not remember… But when you came back home, drunk… Aish, why am I even trying…? But I… I said there was no chance Jiah could ever be worse than you.”

 

He remembers it. Lips bitten between his teeth, he grunts. “Oh. That.”

 

“But I was obviously wrong.”

 

Hyukjae gains a bit of his confidence back.

 

“Unfortunately for your liking, I guess,” he snorts, receiving a hard glare for that.

 

“Do you really want me to apologize or not?”

 

“Yeah, go on,” Hyukjae smirks. Just a little to annoy the younger.

 

Donghae huffs.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

He thinks for a few seconds, before he clicks his tongue. “Apology accepted.”

 

Donghae instantly turns his attention back to the newspaper, hoping to forget the whole thing.

 

“You’re still an asshole though,” they suddenly say in unison, and Donghae raises his eyes back to Hyukjae, eyes wide for a brief second as they stare back into each other’s eyes before Donghae snorts, and Hyukjae’s expression turns into a smug one.

 

But it doesn’t last long, because he still has to prevent Donghae from calling anyone. And it might be even more difficult to get through this now.

 

The restlessness and uneasiness taking over, he knows he can’t possibly get anything solid down his throat. Hyukjae sighs, ignoring the way Donghae lifts his gaze back upon him as he stands up and takes his bowl, going to pour the continents of it to the trash can. His stomach feels even more unsettled as he then leans against the counter, breaking the skin of his lips with his teeth as he tries to find it from himself to speak out his thoughts. He grips the counter of the sink harder, closing his eyes as he takes the final, deep breath.

 

“Donghae, I…” he starts with a wavering voice, sounding a lot smaller than he is. He doesn’t want to see the way Donghae turns his attention to him, nor the way he’s going to judge him again soon enough. There’s no answers, no assurance to make him keep going, but he continues.

 

“I… I don’t want you to make the call.”

 

There’s a heavy, pregnant silence.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Hyukjae hears shifting from behind his back, but he’s not sure what Donghae is doing, or if he’s even looking at him.

 

“I know this sounds crazy, but… Please, don’t make the call.” He buries his face into his left palm, waiting for the hell that is Donghae to get loose. But the silence keeps going on, and he starts regretting everything he has just said.

 

“Are you serious?” Donghae eventually asks back, voice strained and hard.

 

If Hyukjae is at all able to read the tone of his voice, Donghae might be already getting angry. For now, it mostly screams bewilderment. But Hyukjae is serious, and he finds the courage to turn around to face the younger. He tries to act indifferent towards the obvious judgment, trying to reason it to Donghae—and not any less to himself.

 

“I know it doesn’t make sense with anything I’ve said before,” he takes a difficult breath.

 

“Well, it definitely does not.”

 

“But she is my daughter. I can’t stop thinking about all the worst case scenarios that could happen to her if she’ll be placed in the system. I know, my life’s nothing but full of mistakes. But I want to try, Donghae.”

 

Donghae's expression is unreadable, full of something Hyukjae can’t possibly describe.

 

“Hyukjae... Let’s be honest... You can’t keep her. You said you don’t want her. You’re not ready—“

 

He’s already getting frustrated. He knew it would be like this, and it’s true, there’s not enough good reasons for him to keep her.

 

“I’m not ready,” he exclaims, “I know. But what is going to happen to her otherwise? How could I ever live down with the fact that I might also destroy her life wholly by giving her away?” He slides back to sit on the chair in front of Donghae, placing his arms over the table, shoulders slumped.

 

“But it might not be that bad...”

 

“But it could! I know what’s like to be unwanted and hated by your own parents. How could I do the same to her?” Hyukjae doesn’t pay too much attention to himself anymore, but getting overwhelmed starts to bring tears in his eyes.

 

Donghae doesn’t know what to say. Seeing Hyukjae like this gives him goosebumps, and he swallows.

 

“Am I really happy the way my life’s been going on till now? No,” Hyukjae admits.

 

The nurse pries his gaze away.

 

“Give me a chance, Donghae. What do I really have to lose?” he states, swallowing the bile on his throat but it doesn’t go away.

 

“Hyukjae... It’s not—“

 

“I have nothing to lose, other than her.” He doesn’t want to cry, but suddenly everything he’s been feeling lately, or even for a long time already, rushes to the surface and he has to force himself from shedding a tear. It’s close to impossible, though.

 

“Please. Let me try. Give me a chance to deserve her…”

 

“I...” Donghae mumbles. Why is it so hard to say anything anymore? This is doomed to fail, he’s sure of it.

 

“Please.”

 

It’s not going to work, but seeing Hyukjae like this... Hearing those words from his mouth, sounding so desperate and honest... It breaks his heart a little.

 

“I have nothing to lose.”

 

Donghae buries his face into his hands now instead. Silence falls around them; he doesn't want to see how Hyukjae hastily wipes the tears away from his milky cheeks.

 

With a sigh, he gives in.

 

“I’ll give you two weeks.”

 

The elder’s ears perk up.

 

“But if you take that chance, there’s no turning back. She’ll change your life. You can’t keep going the same road you’ve gone by this far. You have to take responsibility. You can’t run away anymore,” Donghae’s voice wavers, and it almost sounds as if he’s convincing himself, too.

 

Hyukjae looks at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

 

Donghae tries to assure himself that he’s doing it for the girl. It’s a fact it could be better if she has a chance to live with her own parents, but knowing that her other parent is a drug addict, and this one immature and reckless guy who likes to get drunk and sleep around, he really doubts it. But maybe, just maybe, it could be able to steer Hyukjae’s life to a better track.

 

He really hopes he doesn’t have to regret this later.

 

“Two weeks, Hyukjae.”

 

The brunet doesn’t know what to say, so he only stares Donghae, still not believing he would actually let him try. It’s not going to be easy, that much is clear to him. It’s going to be a permanent decision, but so would be giving her away. How could he be able to live with it either if he would have chosen to give Jaemin away? He would probably never see her anymore, and although it would be the easy way, he realizes it’s not something he’s ready to do either. After having her there with him for the last two days, he’s scared shitless, but all the little interaction with her has also managed to left a mark on him.

 

But is he able to go through this alone…?

 

Hyukjae bites his lips again, feeling how the skin is already sore and torn for doing it so often. His head is spinning with all the worries, yet there still is the unexpected feeling of relief.

 

“I think you should tell her,” Donghae suddenly notes. Hyukjae’s expression is startled, but the sentence starts sinking in. Then Donghae is already calling for the girl. “Jaemin! Come over here.”

 

Hyukjae’s heartbeat increases, and he could swear cold sweat forms on his forehead.

 

The girl soon appears in the doorway, eyes looking at them as big question marks.

 

“Hyukjae wants to say something to you.”

 

The elder’s eyes widen and he starts panicking, but he doesn’t show it any other way but by kicking Donghae’s leg under the table. The nurse’s eyes are mocking him as return. Hyukjae is certain his hands are shaking slightly, before he gets up from his seat only to crouch to his knees on the floor. It feels like his insides are nothing but steady, as if he’s just taken a horrible roller coaster ride.

 

“C-come here,” he eventually says, gesturing with his fingers for Jaemin to come closer. She tilts her head, seeming as if she’s pondering what’s going to happen now. Her father’s uncertain tone of voice confuses her greatly. But she closes the few steps between them, and halts just in front of the adult at the same time Hyukjae buries his face into his hands for a moment, taking deep breaths. He glances towards Donghae for one time, eyes pleading some mental help but the younger only shakes his head at him in protest. What is he supposed to say?

 

“Jaemin, I…” he says, tone soft. “What… What would you say if you… If you…”

 

Donghae rolls his eyes, but leans his elbow against the table, placing his jaw against his palm as he listens in mild curiosity.

 

Hyukjae grunts in frustration, wanting to drift his gaze anywhere else but to the girl, but his slightly glazed eyes are glued to her.

 

“Would it be okay if…if you stayed here? Would it be okay if you lived with…with d-daddy?” The word almost gets stuck in his throat, but it sinks into his stomach, making him feel heavy as pile of stones.

 

The younger man now has his both hands over his mouth, having chills running over his skin as he too, waits for the answer.

 

Jaemin stares at the man with round eyes, flabbergasted.  She also gives Donghae a confused look, as if she’s trying to make sure it’s actually true, and not just her imagination. She squirms on her feet just a little, until she glances back to the man from under her brows and long fringe.

 

“W-with d-daddy…?” she suddenly repeats, unsure, although there’s a glimmer of hope in her dark eyes.

 

It causes Hyukjae to swallow, and blink his eyes as he’s trying to get rid of the burning sensation in them.

 

“Y-yes,” the man breaths out.

 

The few passing seconds are driving Hyukjae crazy, not the least because she just actually repeated what he just said with her own mouth.

 

“Daddy wants Jaemin to live here? With you?” she asks again, obviously very insecure.

 

Hyukjae has never heard her talking with so many words. It makes him feel so emotional and vulnerable it scares him, but manages to place his bigger hand on her tiny shoulder, hoping that it might help her to trust him more.

 

“Yes, if you want to live with d-daddy.”

 

“Wants to,” she then finally admits, taking a slow step towards Hyukjae, “Jaemin wants to live with daddy.” She takes another step, only to unexpectedly nuzzle herself against the male shyly, taking a light grip of his shirt.

 

Hyukjae freezes, and he forces his eyes closed. He trembles on his place, as he circles an uncertain hand around her waist.

 

“T-then you stay,” he almost whimpers, trying to keep his voice low so it wouldn’t be so evident how scared he is. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ll stay,” he repeats. He’s not sure if it’s for her, or mostly for himself. This whole thing terrifies him to the core, but the light embrace of his daughter might just be enough for him to enclose this decision.


	10. Ten

. . ten . .

 

 

The hot water flows steadily along his bare skin, licking its way over his stitched temple to his distinct jawline as it keeps running through the sides of his neck and pushing forward his well-sculpted chest until swirling down the drain. Pressing his forehead and arms against the cold bathroom tiles, he ignores the water flushing over his closed eyes and partly opened lips, ash-brown drenched strands now glued to his skin.

 

Hyukjae’s head buzzes ever so loudly, all the emotions now dominating him like a downpour of acid rain, eating him inside out and leaving him hanging with trembling hands and superficially heaving chest as inside his mind he wanders fifteen minutes back in time. He’s already contemplating the consequences of his insane nightly courage, wondering if his decisions for now are anything but good or worthwhile.

 

It might even be the stupidest decision during his short lifetime, yet still, he’s not going to take all that back even when he’s extremely uncertain about everything this change would bring to his life. There’s a shitload of bad habits and manners he’s grown used to, and now he’s supposed to become at least a somewhat decent person and preferably get rid of them. But how is he going to do all that?

 

As the bathroom starts to fill with steam due to the hot water that’s already stinging against his skin, Hyukjae feels a little light-headed. Getting into the shower seemed like a good idea to clear his head, but now his head is everything but. The fact that Donghae is most likely in the living room looking after his daughter makes him dread getting out of the shower.

 

It seems as if the air has gotten thicker, his breathing a bit too heavy when he finally turns the temperature to the almost opposite end. The water turns cooler, and Hyukjae turns around to lean his back against the wall. His head is full of questions and expectations, fears and unshared thoughts that keep haunting him, making him actually feel like he’s soon going to burst if he could not let any of them out. He knows he needs Donghae’s help to get started with this, but is the nurse ready for that? Hyukjae has already asked quite a lot from a guy who shouldn’t have gotten involved in this at all to begin with, and the younger man still dislikes him. But it’s a fact he desperately needs Donghae’s help and knowledge if he doesn’t want to fail when he hasn’t yet even passed the starting line.

 

Just thinking about Donghae, Hyukjae’s thoughts roam back to high school. He remembers the time when he still tried; tried to ask Donghae to hang out as they used to, but all he ever got was the more frequenting ‘no’s and ‘I don’t know’s. He was left behind without a proper reason, and with time he grew bitter about it. He didn’t have the guts to ask why. What made the younger’s new friends suddenly so much better than he ever was? He always thought they got along better than most at that age.

 

And the lonely nights lying on his bed, thinking what had gone wrong, never really left him entirely. Donghae had definitely stolen a piece of him, and even after now, he isn’t really over it.

 

Hyukjae rubs his fingertips over his face as he exhales in exasperation and shakes his head slowly. It’s stupid to think about the past now. He knows his late childhood is full of downs and he doesn’t really want to dig any deeper into them now. He has a lot more important things to think about, when he finally foams some shampoo into his slick strands of hair, deciding to get rid of all those unnecessary thoughts.

 

For a moment, he reminisces the shared words with his daughter, and he lets his hands fall off his hair as the water rinses the shampoo off by itself. The word ‘daddy’ still has mostly a threatening tone inside his head, but there’s something in it that makes his chest warm up a little, too. The fact that Jaemin talked to him with so many words at once overwhelms him. And to be honest, everything does now. He takes a deep breath before he closes the tap, stepping out of the compound of a shower cubicle and bath tub. Hyukjae runs his fingers though his hair, ruffling the wet mop before taking a clean towel for himself.

 

As he dries himself he tries to come up with words how to convince the younger man to his side. It’s true that the dislike is not only one-sided, when Hyukjae finds himself more often than not pretty annoyed over Donghae’s behavior towards him. The way he constantly belittles him is irritating and downward dejecting. They used to bicker a lot whilst younger, but it’s not the same. He unconsciously wishes their relationship—or the lack of it—to get better, at least a little, if he’s going to have to spend some time with him. If they could at least try to get along, it might even be nice.

 

He regrets admitting it, but he still misses those times when they were just two friends who could rely on each other and have fun even how bitchy life sometimes did get.

 

Absent-mindedly, the male rolls the towel around his waist, opening the lock of the bathroom door as he proceeds to walk towards his bedroom. He hears the sounds of TV in the distance and he bites his lower lip when his hand grips the door handle and he steps inside. But contradictory to what he has expected, he notices he’s not alone as Donghae is there too, putting the clothes he used yesterday into his bag and taking out a medium-sized notebook and a ball-point pen. It does seem like the younger is aware of his presence, but has decided to ignore him.

 

“What are you doing?” Hyukjae then asks, the question just slipping through his lips. He turns his back towards the other guy, opening the double-doors of his wardrobe, searching for something to put on.

 

An orange pencil is hanging between Donghae’s crooked teeth as he takes a look of the bare, still damp back of Hyukjae’s. It’s been a long time—a really long time when was the last time he’s seen the older like this, and he must admit that the latter’s torso looks entirely different now compared to the one that belonged to a teenager.  His eyes briefly trail the ridges and furrows of his muscles, rushing back off of him when Hyukjae, without a strike a note of warning, lets his towel drop down to the floor. Donghae hauls his eyes down onto his bag and med school books when the older pulls on his red boxers, and stops to ponder which pants to put on.

 

“Just packing my stuff,” Donghae mumbles, finally daring to rise his gaze back up when Hyukjae struggles with his denim jeans and turns more towards the dark haired nurse. The latter tightens his belt, eyes partly examining the younger and partly off into his own thoughts.

 

“Thought I could do some studying while watching the tv…” Donghae continues, likewise ogling how the tips of Hyukjae’s fringe dangle against his forehead, and how his pecs actually could rival his own. And he realizes how much Hyukjae has changed in every aspect he’s aware of.

 

The elder turns back to the wardrobe to pick himself a shirt, eventually going with a dark grey college one. He licks his lips as he thinks about opening up with the obvious matter to the other, although not enjoying the thought.

 

“Hey Donghae,” he starts as he pulls the shirt over his head.

 

“What?” Donghae is now already at the door, hugging the books against his chest. He feels a little cold inside, and his head keeps thudding loudly, as parts of his past has started to circle inside his head again.

 

Hyukjae takes a note of the somewhat awkward tension in the air. He sighs, as he takes a pair of socks out of the closet before brushing his fringe off his eyes. He bites his lower lip again, cursing himself out the window; he hates to say it out loud that he needs the younger.

 

“I… I have not spent a day with the girl alone before. I have no idea what should I be doing,” he confesses, giving Donghae a pleading look, “So I was hoping that… That you could help me out.”

 

“Hyukjae, I—,“ Donghae opens his mouth, but the brown haired male cuts him off.

 

“I know it’s too much to ask. Everything is,” Hyukjae sighs, “You obviously can’t stand me but I have no choice. Please, help me get started? I know nothing about kids.”

 

Donghae sighs in return. If he’s being entirely honest, he was expecting this. He was expecting the fact that Hyukjae would need someone to get him on the right track. He stares at the man, closing his eyes in irritation. In a way, he wants to see if Hyukjae’s really going to do this. And it’s a fact Donghae has more knowledge about kids than Hyukjae—a lot through his work at the ER, but some even from way back during the last years of high school and first years of university when he used to actually babysit some kids from his neighborhood to get more money.

 

But there are cons to his assents, yet he knows he can’t really refuse. His mother’s words ring inside his head again, loud and clear, and maybe helping Hyukjae out is the least he could do. Despite trying to hide it for years, he’s always felt remorse of how he ruined their friendship back then. His personality definitely has its flaws, and he’s more aware of them than he usually lets on. But admitting his mistakes has always been a hard bite for him to swallow.

 

He grunts in frustration and stomps his foot, growling quietly.

 

“Fine, fine... Today, I’ll help you out with this but tomorrow I have to go to work, so you’re on your own.”

 

“Alright. I don’t know how to pay you back but… I appreciate this, really,” he says with a milder, more serious yet soft tone.

 

Donghae scoffs at him out of habit, seeing a glimpse of the ‘old Hyukjae’ he knew, and it scares him. Hyukjae has changed, but he’s pretty sure he’s still the same boy underneath everything, and he doesn’t know how to take it. Instead, he tries to think the actual matter at hand. Leaning against the doorjamb, he opens his mouth.

 

“I think the first thing we’ll have to do is to get you some necessary stuff to get this rolling… And I guess that means some shopping. The girl needs more clothes and whatnot. You have any money for that?”

 

“Something. I guess it’ll do.” Hyukjae’s not really delighted about the thought of going shopping anything, because as far as he remembers, he greatly dislikes it. With any of his old exes he has done the mistake to tag along, he regrets every single one of them. “I hate shopping, though.”

 

“Great. We’ll both have a blast,” Donghae huffs and shifts the books on his arms, giving the elder a wry look although the thought of shopping isn’t as bad as he first thought it might be.

 

Hyukjae rolls his eyes, but a little grin hovers the corner of his lips as he walks past Donghae to the hallway, the latter following right after him.

 

“So...” the brunet mutters, glancing at the clock on his phone’s screen he’s been holding on his fingers. It’s a little past eleven in the afternoon, and it’s already Monday. It feels like the time has both dragged at the same time it feels like it could have been more than just two days.

 

“Should we get going or do you want to study first?” Hyukjae continues absent-mindedly, ignoring the one new message on his phone’s screen. It seems to be from Taehyung, and knowing him it’s probably nothing too important.

 

Donghae looks at him a little weirdly with raised eyebrows.

 

“Well, if you don’t mind, I could read through this one chapter and then we could probably go?”

 

“Alright,” the other answers with a neutral shrug.

 

Donghae furrows his brows, nodding. He doesn’t know why, but Hyukjae lets out a different gist today. Maybe the decision to keep the girl has actually made an impact on him—which doesn’t seem very possible but maybe it really is the matter. Maybe Hyukjae is actually serious.

 

Donghae clacks his tongue as his head goes a little blank, and he realizes Hyukjae seems to be waiting for him to say something. But Hyukjae then coughs a little awkwardly, obviously wanting to say something himself.

 

Everything that's going through the latter's mind makes him slightly uncomfortable. He doesn’t know where to start, and the uncertainty about this new, big change makes him anxious. Where does being a father begin?

 

“You know, is there something I could...read or anything...?”

 

Donghae cocks an eyebrow, baffled and surprised about the silent determination he’s now seeing through Hyukjae’s dark eyes.

 

“Well...” the younger bites the inside of his cheek, “If you have an internet connection, Google is your new best friend with this.” He smirks a little, finding it amusing that Hyukjae now looks like a light bulb just went on inside his head.

 

“Oh.”

 

 

 

With an old laptop on his hand, Hyukjae goes to the living room, taking in the sight of his four year old silently watching the cartoons going on TV. The girl is snuggled at the other end of the couch, the familiar toy dog tightly embraced against her body. She seems occupied on the children’s show, and with a gulp Hyukjae proceeds to go sit next to her.

 

Biting the bottom lip of his, he sits down and places the laptop on top of his thighs. He takes a brief look of the talking sheep on the TV screen, the pc already open yet his thoughts are swirling from here to there.

 

He gulps down some nonexistent saliva, contemplating if he should make an effort for speaking to the girl. It’s so weird though, since the past years he’s always been living alone, and now he has two additional roommates with him instead.

 

“Um, what are we watching?” he eventually asks, uncertain, waiting for a reaction from the girl.

 

At the same moment Donghae walks in, looking around.

 

The younger has obviously heard what Hyukjae just said, but he remains silent as he, too, waits if the girl’s going to answer. The amount of words she used in the morning are still hammered into his mind, and to be honest the whole conversation before will probably be remembered for a long time. The moment and the shy hug shared between the father and daughter is glued to in the back of his mind, and even how much he tries to convince himself otherwise, it managed to warm his heart up a lot. And it might just help him start seeing Hyukjae in a mildly different light when the man actually tries to interact with her more. He’s sure it means a lot to the girl, and every effort Hyukjae would make for her, would help her come out of her shell. Maybe it will take time, but it might be the case when time passes by if Hyukjae won’t give up on trying.

 

He quietly contemplates taking the small gap between Hyukjae and the last free part of the couch, but he makes up his mind as he only takes a pillow and sits on the floor with his school books. He opens the first book, but his attention is still at the girl and Hyukjae.

 

Jaemin has turned to gaze back at her father, pursing her lips as she then points to the TV screen and tilts her head just slightly.

 

Hyukjae glances at the TV.

 

“Those are sheep, right?” he wonders out loud. “Do you like this show?”

 

She gives the man a shy smile, but manages to show them her gums. Her eyes are sparkling a little behind her dark lashes.

 

Donghae swallows inaudibly at the similarity between Jaemin’s smile and the image of Hyukjae’s bright smile in his memories.

 

Nevertheless if she didn’t actually say what she thinks, Hyukjae feels warmer because of even this kind of an answer. He hums with a nod, and his eyes wander to Donghae, who turns his own away just before the moment their gazes would have met. But for now, Hyukjae doesn’t feel too disheartened. He turns to look back at his laptop screen, writing down the first headword that he comes up with about parenting.

 

And seeing the endless amount of articles, he takes a deep breath as he clicks the first one open.

 

Here we go.

 

He’s still afraid and certainly feeling as lost as ever, the thought of running away still nagging loudly at him, but for starters, he’s a stubborn person. He’s decided to do this, and so he will. He knows he’s going to regret this more likely sooner than later, but for once in his life, there’s actually some meaning in it again. It’s the first time in years when he’s actually decided to pursue something, and although it’s one hell of monster for him now, he wants to fight it.

 

If there’s nothing else good in him, he could at least try give his daughter a place where she’s not treated like trash anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

Forty-five minutes later Hyukjae finds himself being mentally knocked down after the flood of information he’s desperately tried to swallow. A deep scowl is plastered on his forehead as he shakes his head in an attempt to cool off his buzzing mind.

 

He lets out a frustrated grunt, and Donghae lifts his eyes up from his own books rather curiously, cocking up his eyebrow. It seems like he might already understand what Hyukjae’s problem actually is, as he closes his medical books on his lap.

 

“Hyukjae,” Donghae calls him out eventually, head little tilted to the side.

 

His eyes are a bit mocking when Hyukjae gives him a look of disbelief.

 

“What?” Hyukjae sounds annoyed, and his eyes stare the younger with a daze full of inward struggling.

 

“I’m done reading,” Donghae answers matter-of-factly. “You look like you could use a break as well. I can literally see smoke coming out of your head.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Hyukjae deadpans.

 

The nurse gives him a shrug.

 

“So what about a trip to the nearest mall now?”

 

The older male sighs heavily, taking a look of the girl sitting on his right who now turns to look back at him with round, innocent eyes.

 

“Alright, let’s go then,” Hyukjae mutters and stands up from the couch, stretching his arms after putting the laptop on top of the coffee table-box. “I think anything is better than those soul crushing articles about '5 tips of sneezing your kid right', or '20 ways of how to not raise a drug-dealer' and '5 symptoms of how you suck at being a parent' at the moment anyway.”

 

Donghae rolls his eyes. He’s pretty sure the next two weeks might give him a headache before it has properly even started.


	11. Eleven

. . eleven . .

 

 

The nearest mall seems to have been the most convenient option for their purpose, and the big supermarket at its first floor easy enough as a starting point.

 

It’s shouldn’t be too hard to visit an ordinary supermarket, but with such companions it feels more like an adventure the oldest isn’t really ready for. It's as he's visiting it the first time; everything is suddenly so strange and unfamiliar. Hyukjae has visited it hundreds of times, yet he isn’t sure why it bothers him so much to be there. Although he’s getting creeps every time older couples give scrutinizing glances towards them, mumbling something to their sleeves. As if he was suddenly an alien on a terrain he didn't belong.

 

Before their ten minute drive to the nearest mall, Donghae managed to scribble a little checklist for them to keep count of the stuff. Which he’s currently rummaging through whilst Hyukjae and the kid both seem like lost puppies waiting beside him.

 

Hyukjae tightens his hold against the shopping carts’ handle as he stares at the never-ending isles of the supermarket, taking in long inhales of air. It’s overwhelming, to say at least. It feels like he’s suddenly hopped into an entirely different person’s boots, and the boots are way too big and shiny for someone like him.

 

Jaemin gives her father an expecting look painted with the slightest shade of anxiety.

 

Hyukjae thinks they must share similar emotions at the moment, and he feels slightly relieved about that. However, Donghae has been pondering things a bit too long for his liking, and for their all sake, he’d prefer to get this over with as soon as possible. After giving a killer-stare at another over-thinking couple a bit further, he turns to Donghae, his foot pressed on top of the wheel of the cart.

 

“So… What do we need?” he asks impatiently, eyeing the passing people around them doubtfully. Good god it’s only a weekday afternoon, and therefore the place is relatively quiet. He might not have enough patience to loiter between too many prying eyes that keep sending him those malicious looks.

 

Donghae halts beside him, giving him a bit too smug a look. As if he’s actually enjoying this. No, he’s not enjoying exactly this, but he does enjoy the fact that Hyukjae is about to do things against his usual ways.

 

“Where to begin… Well, for starters, the basics. Food, snacks, a toothbrush... If we think about a little further she needs more clothes. And something to play with—“

 

Hyukjae suddenly whines loudly, interrupting the other man and therefore receiving a hard glare from him.

 

“I’m going bankrupt with that amount of stuff to buy!”

 

“That’s what it takes,” Donghae snorts bluntly, “Gotta get used to this,” he keeps muttering, expression significant.

 

Hyukjae takes a look over the other as he tries to find the words to say; Donghae is once again belittling him and his decisions, and it forces him to clench his jaws together as he tries to keep his temper on hold.

 

“ I don’t give a damn if I have to eat Frosties for the rest of my life, as long as the girl doesn’t have to starve anymore,” he suddenly barks in irritation, puffing his cheeks as he crosses his forearms over his chest and turns a bit away from the other in silent protest.

 

“You have two mouths to feed now, you can’t drink up your money anymore.” Donghae gives him a meaningful glare.

 

Hyukjae huffs. You obviously still sees me as a trash can full of garbage and banana peels that would make you slip and tear your head open when you fall—isn’t it?

 

“I know, I know,” he licks his lips with a scowl still lingering on his face. “So, what’s first on that precious list of yours?” he grumbles the question.

 

“You mocking me for being organized?”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

Donghae doesn’t catch the bait to start bickering more about it as he narrows his eyes at Hyukjae, giving him a nasty glare. Biting his lips, Hyukjae decides it’s not the time for that yet. Instead, he glues his deep brown eyes at Donghae and doesn’t even try to hide his annoyance.

 

We’re so from different planets, Hyukjae sighs inaudibly, lazily leaning against the cart. Are you even alive alive?

 

Donghae has neat, blue jeans and a light blue checkered cotton shirt under a black, simple jacket, whereas Hyukjae’s essence gives out their different statuses easily. He, in his ripped jeans and a relaxed college shirt with a black cap that has seen its better days on his head don’t really go along with Donghae. Donghae looks like a straight-A university student who hangs out with the other high-end people, and Hyukjae more like someone from a garage band who plays at bars on Thursday nights and who really likes beer as a hobby—which isn’t that far from the truth, though.

 

The younger man is glancing around, as if he’s trying to see through how the isles are organized. If it wouldn’t have been Donghae for the other’s assistance, Hyukjae would have probably ended up being and going all over the shop like a headless chicken.

 

Donghae suddenly starts moving forward, pointing out the isles a bit further away, where all the toiletries stuff are. He soon hollers: “Let's get on with this.”

 

Hyukjae takes another deep inhale and lets the air out roughly, before he gives Jaemin a short look. He nudges his head towards Donghae, giving the girl a lopsided smile after.

 

“Let’s follow that silly uncle, okay?” He’s not really certain why he’s trying to crack a joke with his daughter, but somehow, getting onto the level of a 4 year old seems easier than trying to socialize with Donghae instead.

 

“I’m not a silly uncle.”

 

Hyukjae and Jaemin hear the grunt of protest, and it makes Hyukjae contemplate if teasing him would really cross boundaries. He feels a little itchy to test the waters more, but he’s also afraid he would end up saying something stupid enough to crack a bad nerve; he doesn’t need a cranky Donghae when it’s already awkward enough.

 

Nevertheless, it is able to cause a little giggle from Hyukjae’s right side. Donghae turns to look at them at that exact moment, wanting to say a thing or two, but the girl’s laugh shuts him wholly. Hyukjae realizes he’d be content with that for a while. With a sudden rush of courage, he picks the girl up, and lifts her on to the trolley, following suit after Donghae's lead.

 

It doesn’t take longer than few minutes to reach the shelves full of different kinds of toothbrushes and toothpastes, and Hyukjae eyes the shelves warily, his thoughts scattered here and there. There’s so much new stuff he needs to consider now; before he would have probably picked the cheapest ones without another thought and be out of there in the blink of an eye.

 

“These brushes are for kids of her age,” Donghae mutters and points out the row of more colorful ones that stand out from the rest.

 

Hyukjae bites his lips before he turns to Jaemin.

 

„Want to pick your own?” the man asks a bit unsteadily. All these little things are such a big change in his life even how much he tries to deny it. “Any color you’d like—oh. It seems every color has a different animal on it.” He actually feels really out of it actually doing and saying these things, despite how calm and indifferent he might look to the outside.

 

The girl looks at him with wide eyes, but under the layers of uncertainty he could swear he just saw a tiny bit of excitement. He wonders if Jiah ever let the kid choose things or if she ever asked Jaemin’s opinion about anything.

 

He keeps watching closely when the girl bites the tip of her index finger between his small teeth, obviously a little baffled that she could have a say in this as she now gives a deep thought towards the subject. She takes cautious steps closer to the shelf and tiptoes just in front of it, eyes going through the options. A silence falls above them, as the males’ gazes are pretty much hammered to her in mild curiosity.

 

Jaemin’s finger brush against the edge of the shelf in wonder, and Hyukjae realizes he doesn’t know much anything about the girl. He doesn’t know what she likes or dislikes, which is her favorite color or what toys she likes to play with (along with the threadbare toy dog). Is there something she’s afraid of? What makes her laugh and what are things she can’t take her eyes off? What does she find interesting above else?

 

Having these thoughts give Hyukjae chills. There’s so much more to learn, so many things he’s yet to experience.

 

Very carefully, Jaemin ends up pointing out a mint green toothbrush with a small picture of a golden yellow, fluffy duckling in front. Hyukjae eyes her, gaze trying to figure out her essence and the way her lips purse a little. He ends up taking a step closer and reaching out to hand her the one she seems to want.

 

“This one?” he asks, giving the packet to her. She takes it with caution, blinking her eyes.

 

“I can?” she asks quietly, looking at her dad from under her eyebrows; as if she’s still unsure about her pick and if she’s allowed to take that certain one.

 

“It’s… It’s yours if you want it,” Hyukjae responses. It doesn’t seem like a big thing, but for this girl, it obviously means whole hell a lot. His eyes trail towards Donghae, who doesn’t really give any kind of reaction, even how hard he tries to catch one.

 

“You can put it into the cart.”

 

Even if Donghae doesn’t say a thing, he observes the interaction with a busy mind. Something in him says that this—everything—is sort of an act from Hyukjae, when at the same time a little part of him wants to believe it isn’t just it. There is a part of him who wishes for the latter. He licks his lips, a little uncomfortable because of the unusual turmoil inside of him. He’s not the only one having a hard time adjusting to the situation that’s so different compared to his usual life.

 

He’s a little taken aback when Hyukjae picks a toothpaste, and gives him a questioning look aș he wavers a colorful tube in the air.

 

“Is this okay?” the latter asks, obviously not just a little lost to be thinking about these things.

 

“Um—,” Donghae mumbles, losing his tongue for few seconds. “Take the other one. It’s better quality.”

 

Hyukjae nods and shows the new chosen one to the girl, who only nods in agreement. It’s hard for the younger man to believe that Hyukjae’s really listening to him, and asking advice with such an open mind. If he would have to ask the other’s opinion about anything—which he really hopes he wouldn’t need to do—he’s quite sure he would act a lot more defensively when it comes to the act of being unsure about something.

 

He steers his gaze away when Hyukjae drops the toothpaste into the cart, pulling out the checklist from the front pocket of his jeans.

 

As they slowly stroll forward and Donghae crosses out the things from his list they already have, Hyukjae learns a few things about his daughter.

 

When they stroll forward between the isles, currently where the shampoos and shower gels are, Jaemin picks a shampoo that smells effectively like apples over the other options that smell either like strawberries or some tropical mixes. When Hyukjae asks if she wants strawberry or chocolate milk, she picks chocolate. It’s inconspicuous, but he takes a note of the slow change that happens in the kid’s dark eyes that doesn’t seem so awfully withdrawn anymore. It might be just wishful thinking, but he really hopes she’s starting to feel comfortable being around him.

 

 

 

It feels awfully like eternity, when Donghae finally stops on his tracks and Hyukjae manages to catch a breath.

 

„Is this everything?” he queries, eyeing suspiciously their cart that seems like it’s going to explode sooner than later. It’s mostly dry foods and other things to fill up his empty cabinets so they wouldn’t need to make many addiotonal trips to the store further along the week. But the mere amount makes him nervous about his wallet’s capacities.

 

Donghae turns a little more towards the tired-looking, newly formed father, giving him a look that doesn’t give away much. The look is making Hyukjae a little more insane every time he catches it, because he just can’t figure out what it’s about. Because it’s not the usual Donghae. It’s not a bad look, but he’s not quite sure if it’s a good one either.

 

„I don’t want to make this harder, but I’m not sure how much my wallet can take at the moment,” he says, genuinely a little regretful, knowing that his past transactions have not been the wisest ones on the planet of fatherhood.

 

The younger man gives Hyukjae a tentative humm. „You know, my brother has a six year old, and he works în retail and usually when he comes to visit, he comes with boxes of his kid’s old clothes. We... You could check them out, if you want? I mean, most of them are barely used, his wife goes a little overboard with the amount of clothes their kid has... If you want, that is. It would save you some money on that. There’s also some books and toys laying around...”

 

„Donghwa’s married? And has a kid?” Hyukjae couldn’t almost believe it. He just remembers the big brother who was five years older, going away for college just few years ago. But it has actually been quite a while.

 

Donghae quirks and eyebrow, aș if Hyukjae was some sort of an imbecil.

 

„Sorry it’s just... Time flies,” he rumbles barely audibly. „But to the point—that’s great. Like really. She’s gonna grow pretty fast so it would be kind of a waste to get a bunch of brand new stuff and in a month they’d be small already--

 

„I mean it, that’s huge. Single-dad--,” Hyukjae says and the word he just used giving him shivers, „Don’t really swim on money so... Thank you. And your brother.”

 

The single-dad sounds aș odd în Hyukjae’s ears aș it does în Donghae’s. The younger man nods hastily and peels his gaze away. A moment of silence lingers over, until Jaemin’s soft yawn breaks it.

 

„It might be time for lunch,” Donghae notes, and Hyukjae couldn’t agree more. 

 

 

 

”This is your idea of lunch? Fast food?”

 

”Have better ideas? I’m beat from the shopping. I bet Jaemin’s too. It won’t hurt once in a while, does it?”

 

Donghae glances over the girl, her interest perked up a little as she stares at the fast food joint right beside them. He rolls his eyes, face a little softer for once.

 

 

”All right.”

 

The place isn’t overly packed, and Hyukjae sighs mentally in relief. It has been a long afternoon. Right now he can’t take his mind off of a greasy cheeseburger and some drool-worthy, perfectly crispy fries. When it’s their turn to order, his mind suddenly goes blank. What is the kid’s supposed to eat? A frown and a pondering look takes residence over his face, and with a little, ominous cough he tries to get the other man’s attention. Some of these moments, it felt like Donghae was his only lifeline.

 

”Something on your mind?” Donghae doesn’t even look at his way, as he seems to be more interested about the cards on his wallet.

 

”What do I order? A happy meal? Nuggets?” Hyukjae scratches his neck, awkward.

 

Donghae gives him a tiny, tiny hint of a smile. ”I would go with something simple. Nuggets and apple slices?”

 

”Probably a good idea,” Hyukjae gulps, as the cashier girl gives them a look, waiting. ”What he said,” the man continues and points at Donghae, who only shakes his head, ordering a grilled chicken salad for himself.

 

”Seriously, mate. A salad?”

 

”Got a problem?”

 

”It’s just so--”

 

The cashier cuts between their debate, and Hyukjae ends up ordering a double cheeseburger with extra big fries.

 

After paying for their meals separately, Donghae still at the cashier, Hyukjae sweeps the joint with his eyes, trying to find a somewhat calmer table for the trio. Luckily, he catches the booth at the far corner by the window. Taking a glance at Jaemin he inhales deep and snatches the girl by her armpits. He carries the girl to the table, awkwardly hanging on to the two plastic bags from the supermarket, placing her on the red cushion of the leather bench next to him.

 

Jaemin purses her lips in wonder, looking around as she’s in awe. Hyukjae bites his lower lip.

 

”Did… Did your mom ever bring you to eat here?” he asks cautiously, putting the bags down on his feet and sitting down. The girl slowly shakes her head left and right. Hyukjae doesn’t answer, but rather a roller coaster of thoughts invide his head again. What did Jiah ever do with her? Did Jaemin have any good times she could remember?

 

He would have gone further with those depressing questions, if not for Donghae who finally decides to join them, sitting opposite of Hyukjae with a huff–a little tired, a bit relieved, maybe? What is going on in that guy’s head now, anyway? When they were kids, he was able to read his friend like an open book. But now? He isn’t sure if they are even speaking the same language. Hyukjae just can’t brush off this feeling, that there is something, barricading, between them. As if Donghae is purposely trying to keep his distance. Hyukjae couldn’t echo anything out of him.

 

Hyukjae watches as Donghae slips off his jacket, and places it neatly beside him. There’s a sudden urge to get the other to talk about something, anything, but Hyukjae hesitates. Instead, he places his jaw against his knuckles, and with a little sigh, tries to bury the urge.

 

There’s a constant chatter around the place, families, couples and people eating, chattering, laughing from time to time. From the corner of his eye, he notices a thirty-something couple with a kid that’s barely in the talking age, and he wonders. How does people make things work? Maybe it’s different for normal people. But he doesn’t consider himself to be normal, in an ordinary sense. And he isn’t. Not at 23 years of age, with a kid of four. There’s no support system around him. His parents out of the equation, friends even less. Maybe Taehyung, but he doesn’t seem the mature type. Although, Hyukjae has probably never just let people that close. He might not have given anyone the chance. Without Donghae, there’s no one. And could he consider him a friend? Maybe. But Donghae probably didn’t.

 

Not a minute later, the same cashier finally brings their food on a black tray, putting the salad nonchalantly before Donghae, then, with a smile, she puts the tray between Hyukjae and his daughter. There’s a different spark in the cashier’s eyes when she really notices the little kid, and maybe something like curiosity lingering there.

 

With the pleasantries over and the cashier gone, Hyukjae takes the small box of nuggets and the bag of apple slices with a small strawed tetra of milk, and places them on top of a napkin in front of Jaemin. His daughter eyes the food curiously, when Hyukjae opens the box of nuggets. He’s not done this before, everything’s so new, but somehow some little particles of instincts rises to the surface and words just come out of his mouth. Not naturally, but somewhere around there.

 

”This is for you,” he mutters, ripping the apple bag open. ”Mind your fingers, those nuggets might be hot.”

 

As if they have a connection, even if small, Jaemin nods twice in agreement and touches one of the nuggets in caution with her small fingers. Fingers that are barely the length of the nugget itself. She picks up the nugget with her hand, and Hyukjae lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

 

”Good to go?” he asks, and the girl nods. He tries to hide his smile behind his drink.

 

When Hyukjae doesn’t notice, Donghae smiles a little too. His soft brown eyes observe the two, not quite believing the fact that there already seems to be a fragile bond with the father and the daughter. It’s hard to believe this is the same guy who got into a lot of trouble in their last year of high school, and the guy who happened to appear at the ER always on Donghae’s shifts, knuckles bare, with a black eye, broken ribs and whatnot. Yet he can’t get past the friction between them. He just can’t see soundly over the past, all his own regrets, rumors or make-believes. He has too much pride to let it go. Yet there are these little sparkles of proof that maybe it’s not all there is. Hyukjae is not yet reformed, hell no, but he can easily see the fact there is a possibility for him for that.

 

A moan disrupts Donghae’s thinking.

 

”God I was so hungry,” Hyukjae mumbles after a bite of his cheesy hamburger, ”You like your nuggets, nugget?” he asks Jaemin, snickering inwardly to his own joke. Gladly the girl is quite oblivious to her father’s comment, and she nods again, although, Donghae can’t help but try and hide his amusement for such an idiot joke. But a restrained laugh escapes.

 

Hyukjae–of course–hears it and gives Donghae the raised eyebrow, but his thoughts hastily go back to Donghae’s laugh, which he can’t deny he’s been missing a little.

 

”Bad one, sorry”, he says, eyeing the younger a little curiously. ”Can’t help it.”

 

And for thirty seconds, the smile doesn’t leave the nurse’s eyes. There’s a part of Donghae who wants to keep smiling, but can’t let himself go further down that road. 

 

 

 

 

”You realize I have to go to work tomorrow.”

 

The words are like a sharp knife in Hyukjae’s ears in the silently humming car ride back to home. He stares straight, eyes on the road yet he doesn’t really see anything. Fear starts to creep back in to his bones.

 

”8-hour shift, starting at 9 in the morning.”

 

Hyukjae’s at loss with words. All kinds of scenarios start running in his head. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a look at his napping daughter at the rear seat of Donghae’s car.

 

Although Donghae’s pretty much prepared for anything now, the same confused, scared guy as back in the hospital speaks. Almost whispering.

 

”You know I can’t do this without you.”

 

Hyukjae sounds apologetic. Donghae is a bit taken aback from the vulnerability in the man’s voice, and his whole demeanor. He still has no idea why he was ultimately the person Hyukjae reached out for.

 

”I-I...” the younger starts, but the words get stuck. He doesn’t know why he’s even helping to begin with. It feels like there’s no way to back out now, even when he’s not actually promised anything. But his true nature also can’t just leave Hyukjae hanging.

 

The older man sighs.

 

”I know you have your own life to live, and I don’t really belong in that. I just… I’m just asking you to help me to...to steer in the right direction. With her. I don’t know what it is really that makes you loathe me so much, but for her… Only for her. I don’t ask you to stay in my life, just to help me out a little to begin with,” Hyukjae rambles, not letting Donghae a chance to talk yet, ”Could you… Could you stay at my place? With us? Just for a few days–maybe a week? So I can be sure with myself? Just till I get the hang of it.”

 

Donghae swallows, blinking, a bit surpised, yet not at all. A part of him is fast to refuse, yet he curses at himself when the answer just rolls out, different from what he wanted.

 

”Okay. Alright. Just for a few days. But tomorrow, for 8 hours, you’re on your own.”


	12. Twelve

. . twelve . .

 

 

“Would it be okay if I stopped at home?” Donghae suddenly asks as they wait for the lights to turn green. It’s almost peak hour, and the traffic has already slowed down.

 

Hyukjae straightens on his seat, his eyes looking a little tired. Car rides always made him feel sleepy, and the fact, and remembering a certain incident from his past makes him suddenly bite down his lips. He doesn’t want to think about that now. Clearing his throat, he tilts his head slightly towards the brunet.

 

“It’s along the way, so why not...”

 

Donghae gives the older guy a look, but a honk makes him steer his gaze back to the road. The light has already turned green, and he accelerates the car forward. He only needs some more clothes, and some stuff to bring to work with him. He realizes he should probably equip himself for a longer stay. He wasn’t very keen on the idea of driving back and forth between work, Hyukjae’s house and his own every day. He could just as well bring everything he needed to last a while.

 

The car finally turns to his house’s driveway, and he kills the engine.

 

“I’ll try to be fast, okay? You can wait in the car,” Donghae mutters as he’s halfway out the door, but he passes one last glance towards Hyukjae. It doesn’t seem like he’s against it.

 

“Sure,” Hyukjae replies, “Just don’t take all day.” The man yawns, crossing his arms around his chest.

 

Donghae rolls his eyes, pointing a finger at Hyukjae. “Five minutes.”

 

“One… Two… Thr--,” Hyukjae starts counting, and with a huff Donghae leaves towards the house.

 

The front door shuts quietly after him when he enters his home, but as he absent-mindedly kicks off his shoes, a familiar voice greets him.

 

“Donghae, is it you?”

 

It’s his mother, and the said young man furrows his brows and steps further down the hallway until he peeks into the white kitchen.

 

“You’re home?” Donghae asks. “I thought you were at work or something.” He really thought his mother wouldn’t be at home at that time, and somehow facing her frightens the brunet a little. He’s already been staying at Hyukjae’s for few days, and they’ve yet to discuss about it.

 

“No, dear,” she rises from the kitchen chair, walking towards her son with a notepad on her hand and reading glasses over her nose. “I thought I said I had early lectures this week and a few meetings.”

 

“Oh.” Donghae shakes his head and scratches the back of his neck. He’s been so occupied with other things that it must’ve slipped his mind.

 

“Are you staying?” the woman asks nonchalantly, but with a hint curiosity in her voice.

 

“Um, no,” Donghae mutters, wondering what he should be telling her. “I’m here just to snatch some clothes and stuff. Then we’ll be going...”

 

“We?” She leans against the kitchen counter, placing the pad down on it.

 

Donghae stutters, but he shuts his mouth for a moment. “Hyukjae and Jaemin are waiting in the car. ”

 

“Okay,” she says, and Donghae tries desperately to guess what she could be thinking.

 

“So I’m trying to be quick.”

 

“Mm-m.”

 

Donghae hates the fact that she knows exactly how to push his buttons and make him talk even when he doesn’t want to.

 

“I’m going to stay at his place for—for a few days. Help him around.”

 

“She’s staying?”

 

“Um, yeah.”

 

“I’m glad to notice you’re back being friends again,” she mumbles as she goes to sit back at the table. A cup of coffee lays before her, and papers are spread over the wooden table. The way she talks annoys Donghae to no end, just because she’s probably the only one able to see right through him.

 

“I wouldn’t call us friends yet,” Donghae protests, giving his mother a look.

 

She rolls her eyes.

 

“Give him a break, Donghae. He’s going through a lot, by the looks of it.” She shifts some papers on her hands.

 

Donghae bites down his tongue, knowing deep down that his mother was right.

 

“At least he’s trying,” she continues softly, but when she crosses her leg over her other knee, Donghae sees a lecture coming. “Have you even tried to give him a chance? I know you’re stubborn, just like your father. But this is a big change for anyone. Have you asked how Hyukjae feels?”

 

“I’m not his therapist,” Donghae grunts.

 

“No, you are not. But he might need someone to talk to. After all this time, it’s you he came to ask for help.”

 

Donghae feels his fingernails tugging against the skin of his palms. He knows he hasn’t given Hyukjae a chance. He knows he should, and he actually feels a little ashamed because of it. But admitting that he could be wrong isn’t easy for him.

 

“I think I should get going, they’re waiting,” he grunts at last.

 

“I’m just saying you could give it a try,” she sighs, “He could surprise you.”

 

“Yeah, right.” Donghae mutters, leaving the kitchen without another word. He climbs the stairs to the second floor, his head feeling heavy inside. Hyukjae isn’t completely a bad person, he’s sees it. The way he acts with his daughter has already surprised him.

 

Grabbing a bag from his closet, he starts to go through his clothes, trying to decide which he would need during the week. But his mother’s words keep nagging at him. Hyukjae had said it himself; Donghae was the only decent person in his life. When they were still in school, Hyukjae had a ton of friends. And as far as Donghae knew, back then he was still getting along with his parents, somewhat. Was Hyukjae really so…alone now? Why is he doing this, if he’s so against it? And is he, really? So far he’s only thought that he would help Hyukjae for some time, and after that he would just get back to his normal life. Did he really want that? He tries to shake off the thoughts from his head, and ends up throwing whatever first meeting his eyes into the bag.

 

Few minutes later he rushes back downstairs.

 

“Mom, I’m going.”

 

The woman smiles as she sees him. Donghae walks to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

 

“If you need anything, just call me alright? I love you.”

 

“Um, could you do me—or rather Hyukjae—a favor? The clothes Donghwa’s been wheeling here like crazy—could you check if there’s anything Jaemin’s size? I could come pick something up tomorrow. I bet her mother isn’t going to be very cooperative if Hyukjae goes back there...” Donghae rumbles as he puts on his shoes in the hallway and then takes another peek into the kitchen. His mother nods, leaning against her palm.

 

“Thanks mom. Love you,” he hollers and the door shuts after him again. The woman shakes her head with a smile before getting back to her notepad.

 

When Donghae gets outside, it’s raining again. The drops drum against his car, when he grabs his Hyundai’s door and opens it. He halts on his feet when he realizes the two are fast asleep inside.

 

 

Donghae parks his car at the same spot as before. The neighborhood seems rather calm, and the rain has probably gotten people to stay inside. The car stops humming, and the silense sets. They’ve arrived but both Hyukjae and his daughter are still asleep, and he doesn’t know what to do. For a while he stares outside, looking at the gray apartment buildings and a small playground between.

 

The soft snuffles makes it hard to decide if he should wake the two up or not. He detaches his seatbelt, and turns to look at the backseat, then the man sitting on the passenger’s. Hyukjae looks peaceful. His arms are crossed over his chest, his cheek pressed against the window. The black cap on his head makes him look a little younger. It keeps baffling Donghae that it’s been years since they’ve actually seen each other.

 

It’s still hard to believe Hyukjae is really a father to a four year old girl. As he keeps watching, he notices the similarities between them. The plump lips, single lidded almond eyes…

 

He doesn’t want to wake them up, but he knows he has to.

 

Donghae takes a deep inhale, before he stretches his hand out to touch Hyukjae’s arm. Just a few inches away he hesitates, and sits back, pulling his arm off.

 

“Hyukjae,” he hisses instead, but the man doesn’t budge. He rolls his eyes. “Hey, wake up. We’re here.”

 

Hyukjae stirs, but it takes a moment before his eyes start opening. Donghae watches him, until he finally finds the courage to nudge the man’s arm.

 

“Come on, Hyukjae. Up,” he tries again, and at last Hyukjae opens his eyes. The man seems a little out of it, until he stifly turns towards Donghae. His gaze finds Donghae’s hand on his shoulder, and the younger pulls away.

 

“Uh-huh,” Hyukjae yawns, looking around questioningly. “We’re here already?” he mutters, realizing that they weren’t at Donghae’s place any longer.

 

“You both fell asleep,” Donghae notes, “I can’t understand how you sleep so easy.”

 

Hyukjae turns to look at his daughter, the other end of his lips quirking up just a bit. “Family bug.”

 

Donghae raises his eyebrows, his gaze remaining on the young father. Hyukjae rotates back to face Donghae, but he takes haste interest to his seatbelt, opening it and twisting the baseball hat on his head. The word family has a weird aftertaste in his mouth. Saying it makes him feel sheepish. His heartbeat rises. Is that what it would be? Would they be a family? He and his daughter?

 

“I can take the bags, you carry her,” Donghae mutters before he stands out of the car and walks to the boot.

 

Hyukjae follows out soon after, and the first raindrops touching his bare neck make him shiver. A little nervous, he opens the rear door and bends over the girl to get her unbelted.

 

“Hey, Jaemin,” he whispers, “We’re home. Time to wake up.” His voice falters in the middle, but he shakes it off. Jaemin opens her eyes, yawning. She looks at her father with glassy eyes. “Hop,” Hyukjae says, taking his arms around her and bringing her up against his chest. The boot door clacks down, and they see Donghae with his own travel bag and the two shopping bags. The car locks down. Hyukjae licks his lips before he asks: “You need some help? I can take one.”

 

Donghae gives him a look of surprise. “N-no need.”

 

“Alright. Thanks,” Hyukjae mumbles and shift Jaemin to a better position on his arms.

 

Donghae doesn’t really answer; he only gives the other a mumble.

 

 

 

The staircase is dark as they reach Hyukjae’s door. The lightbulb has burned out, and it takes a few seconds before Hyukjae finds the right key. He puts the girl down against his leg, making sure she doesn’t fall down if she’s still sleepy. But Jaemin grabs his tigh and gives him a tired look and the door finally opens.

 

The girl manages to step inside on his own, and the men follow after her. Without asking, Hyukjae takes the other shopping bag from Donghae’s hand, feeling the cold skin of the other’s fingers against his own. He doesn’t see, or notice the little jitter Donghae’s body makes as the bag’s owner changes. He takes a round to the kitchen and leaves the bag, coming back to crouch before his daughter and help her open the zipper of her yellow jacket. Jaemin kicks her own shoes off, quite in the same manner as her father does. Hyukjae snaps the lights on.

 

Donghae follows the process silently.

 

“You want to go watch some telly? Donghae and I will unpack the goods from the store,” Hyukjae says, and goes to click the tv open. She follows him like a little duckling follows their mother duck, and jumps up to the red couch. A kid’s show is running, and she’s soon enchanted by it.

 

Hyukjae lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he lifts the bag on top of the counter and starts piling all the stuff out of the bag, starting from the few cartons of milk.

 

It takes a minute before Donghae accompanies him.

 

Hyukjae’s hands tremble just enough for the younger to notice. All kinds of things run in circles inside his head, and he feels suddenly so terrified. He puts down the carton he’s been holding, and grips the edge of the counter. Tomorrow looms ahead like a dark gray cloud, it’s just starting to sink in.

 

Two days ago he was just Hyukjae; a guy who literally didn’t have a life to actually call a life, someone who wasted his days doing all sorts of useless things. Tomorrow he would have to be all alone with a kid he barely knew. Unexpectly he is supposed to turn into a father in the blink of an eye.

 

He lets out a shaky breath, and Donghae watches him, worried and doubtful at the same time.

 

“Are you...alright?” he asks, voice low.

 

Hyukjae shakes his head. “I’m not ready for this.”

 

The conversation with his mother returns to Donghae’s mind. He’s unsure even if he clearly sees that Hyukjae is in need of a friend right now. The noise coming from the kid’s show echo in the house as if it is the new intro for doomsday.

 

Donghae bites the insides of his cheeks, calculating the words he could say, but Hyukjae continues before he manages to utter a word.

 

“How am I supposed to do this?” he whispers. He doesn’t want his daughter to hear. “I don’t know anything. Since she was born, I have not been a dad a day in my life. How do I know I’m not going to fuck this up?” Hyukjae turns his face to Donghae for few seconds, and the jumble of emotions is evident on his face.

 

There’s a pit down on Donghae’s stomach, and for a moment he feels Hyukjae’s pain. He wants to console him, but how should he do that? He doesn’t realize how deep the man’s insecurities go.

 

“You just...” Donghae starts, taking a hesitant step closer. “Take it day by day…”

 

Hyukjae scoffs, the first thought being that Donghae was probably just judging him. But the softer, more understanding look in the brown eyes surprises him. He sees a part of his old best friend.

 

“I-I’m just a nurse. I migh know a few things more than you, but I’m not exactly a dad either,” Donghae keeps going, “I don’t think that’s something that comes with an users manual.”

 

They stare at each other for a while, the older teetering on his feet in anxiety.

 

“I know you think I’m most likely going to fail—“ Hyukjae starts but Dongae cuts him off with a deep sigh.

 

His voice wavers, though.

 

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he takes a short break. “It’s up to you. You’ll stumble along the way, as anyone would. Then just fake it till you make it.” It’s strange saying these things to the other, when Donghae’s not even sure he believes what he says. He ends up biting his lips again, a little afraid how Hyukjae would react.

 

But Hyukjae snickers at him. And soon, he laughs, wiping his eyes from the tears mixed of laughter and frustration that have been building inside.

 

Donghae’s taken aback by the sudden amusement. This isn’t quite the answer or reaction he expected.

 

“What are you laughing at, now?” he ends up grunting back, confused.

 

“I don’t know,” Hyukjae snorts, sliding his hand through his hair. “I was just waiting for some kind of a lecture about how much I suck and how this is never going to work out, and then you’re just… Trying to comfort me or something.”

 

In the end he doesn’t say a word, but his cheeks tell a different story when the redness paints over them as he blushes. He tries to hide it as he takes the other shopping bag and starts loading the stuff into the fridge.

 

Donghae wants to argue that. Why is that he always ends up bickering with Hyukjae? About nothing and everything. He’s confused and he mostly just wants to take offense from what Hyukjae just said. He’s always been bad at being wrong, and admitting it has been the hardest part. So is being laughed at, especially when he’s not sure where he stands here, with Hyukjae. Donghae doesn’t know how to decide if he should defend himself or just let it go. A part of him wants to rasp out again, and keep their interaction as it is. The other part doesn’t really want keep on taking a step forward followed with two steps back.

 

"Shut up..."

 

Hyukjae snickers.

 

If Donghae had a sin, it was definitely pride.

 


	13. Thirteen

. . thirteen . .

 

 

“I need to get going, I’m late already. How doesn’t a man know how to cook porridge?”

 

Hyukjae listens to Donghae’s distant nagging, watching as Jaemin takes another spoonful of her breakfast the nurse just made up for her ten minutes ago. He scoffs, but his leg trembles under the table. Donghae appears around the corner between the kitchen and the space where the two person table is set. He takes a hurried breath and shifts his shoulder bag. The black, long jacket, neat jeans and a light blue collared shirt makes him look like an adult. His brown fringe is tossled neatly upon his head, out of his forehead.

 

“There’s the leftovers my mom gave in the fridge for lunch. Just remember to make some snacks. I can cook something when I come,” Donghae rambles. He looks Hyukjae in the eye for a long minute.

 

It’s 8:21 am and Hyukjae’s eyes are still lousy after being forcefully kicked awake. He has a red, way too big hoodie over his torso and gray college pants. The hair sticks out to every possible direction.

 

“You can call me if it’s really important.”

 

Hyukjae stirs on his chair. “I don’t have your number.”

 

Donghae gives him a look of disbelief and annoyance, grabbing a pen from the table and scribbling his number on the front page of yesterday’s newspaper.

 

“There you go! Now I really need to get going,” Donghae keeps rambling on a hurried tone. He checks the time from his wristwatch, gritting his teeth. “Try not to blow up things while I’m gone.”

 

Hyukjae snorts. “Just go.” He doesn’t want him to go.

 

Donghae leaves the kitchen, and in three seconds he’s out the door. The man stares towards the door, even if a wall impedes him from seeing straight to it. As if waiting for Donghae to suddenly come back. He turns to eye his daughter, and sees her watching him closely. She lifts up the smallest mug they found from the cabinets.

 

“You want more milk?”

 

She nods, eyes clear.

 

Hyukjae pours the mug halfway full, and puts the carton back on the table.

 

“I guess it’s just the two of us for today, huh?” he notes cautiously, and Jaemin gives him a shy smile.

 

He hasn’t been able to have a bite of anything solid. He’s not hungry, he’s scared to death.

 

How is he supposed to not fuck things up?

 

 

 

There is two socks lying on the floor in front of him; they’re not a match. The other is pink and the other dark blue. He gives a frustrated look towards the pile of clothes on his other side. They were running out of Jaemin’s clothes. The girl sits on the edge of the bedroom’s mattress, looking at her father curiously. She has a red hoodie with a bear printed out front. Hyukjae thinks that at least their hoodies match, both red and both sleeves too long.

 

He remembers Donghae’s text message where he promised to go pick up his brother’s kid’s clothes from his house (after Hyukjae’s despairing message that Jaemin was running out of things to wear).

 

“Put the socks on, please,” he mutters quietly. He has a washing machine.

 

Pulling out his phone, he texts Donghae: Do I use softener or detergent if I wash the clothes in the machine?

 

Jaemin has a blue sock on the left foot and the pink on right.

 

His phone vibrates.

 

Have you never washed your clothes before??? Donghae replies.

 

Yes, but I used to have only one bottle, now there’s suddenly two and I don’t know which one to use! He texts back.

 

He leans against the wall. Jaemin watches him intently, her head tilted to the side. He realizes her pants are wrong way round.

 

Put the detergent in the left locker, the softener in the right. Wash in 30 degrees!

 

Hyukjae stands up.

 

“Let’s do some laundry, okay? How hard can that be,” he mutters to the girl, and grabs the used clothes on his arms. They go to the bathroom, and Hyukjae throws the clothes inside, pulling some of his own shirts from the hamper. He looks at one of the shirts and wonders when was the last time he actually looked there. Or washed any. The closet was so full of his clothes he didn’t need to do that very often.

 

Hyukjae shuts the hatch. His phone vibrates again, but before he looks at the message he pours the stuff into the lockers and cliks the right temperature. The washing machine starts pumping water. He opens the text message.

 

You’ve been “washing” your clothes with a softener, btw. I bought the detergent yesterday…

 

Hyukjae snorts at the message. Of course. The machine keeps rolling.

 

He takes a look at the girl standing beside him; both so clueless, neither of them don’t know how they would get along. What the heck are they supposed to do? How does he entertain the girl for eight hours? Or for the rest of his life?

 

“What do you want to do now?” he asks.

 

She shrugs. Very helpful.

 

“Well… What did you do with...mom?”

 

Jaemin blinks and bites one of her fingers, clearly thinking. Suddenly she turns and walks away, and Hyukjae follows her to the kitchen table. She climbs up the chair and takes the pen Donghae used, drawing on air.

 

“You want to draw?” Puzzled look rises to his face. She nods.

 

“Wait a second, I’ll have to check if we have those things… Meanwhille, you can just draw on the newspaper.”

 

Did he even have any printing paper? Crayons any less? He used to draw when he was young, but he hasn’t really touched a pen in years for that. But he knew he was pretty good at drawing, back in the days. Is that his inheritance or did all kids like to draw?

 

Moving off to the bedroom to look for the crayons, he can’t stop thinking how the day would turn out. Would he eventually do something stupid? Forget to feed her?

 

Jiah had managed to raise her so far. She definitely wasn’t an angel or Mother Theresa, so how had she made it through? Or was it some kind of free parenting? Maybe she didn’t do much else but put food on the table.

 

Jaemin knows how to dress, she knows how to wash her teeth, she doesn’t need help with the toilet, if someone just came after her to flush because she was too short to pull the plug up by herself. Are all four year olds like that? Only thing she lacks is words.

 

The closet full as ever, Hyukjae eyes the shelves until a box draws his attention. He takes it and opens the cover, and with a smile returns to the kitchen.

 

“Found some!” The man puts the box on the table and starts spreading some wooden pencils on the table. There isn’t much left, but he thinks ten different colors might be more than enough for her. A big sketchbook is underneath all the other stuff, and he gives a clear page for her. He also finds some ink pens, blue, red, green and yellow.

 

The girl’s eyes are wide as saucers as she takes a red pen on her tiny hands.

 

Hyukjae exhales and slumps down on the chair opposite to her. He feels exhausted and it’s only nine in the morning.

 

Jaemin draws something that distantly looks something like a flower.

 

 

 

 

Hyukjae’s been watching the kid draw for almost an hour. It’s the third paper she’s working at the moment, and absent-mindedly the father has tried to figure out what they are actually picturing. Few flowers here and there, a box that looks distantly like a house, few stick figures. A barrel with two stick and squares on top. A dog? A cat?

 

He swallows and clicks his phone’s screen on. It’s just 9:58. No icons to show that anyone would’ve texted him. He opens Facebook. Nothing new there either. Taehyung has posted a picture of himself and a girl—wait, the post says his sister? He has a sister?

 

Putting the phone away, he sighs. Taehyung probably didn’t even know he has a daughter. They only met about a year and half ago, in a bar. Hyukjae had dared the man for a billiards match. He’d lost, but Taehyung had offered him a beer. An odd friendship, he thinks. But it’s the only one that’s left. Everyone else have just… drifted away. Just like Donghae.

 

Hyukjae bites his tongue, standing up to pour himself a glass of apple juice.

 

“Kid,” he hollers behind the fridge, “You want some?” He shows Jaemin the bottle, but she shakes her head.

 

“Alright. Just say when you’re hungry or want something to eat.”

 

He sits pack on the chair, but his gaze wanders to the view outside the window. It’s a gray day. He knows it rained last night, and some drops are still falling down the glass. It’s not a nice weather, but Hyukjae’s starting to feel claustrophobic inside his small apartment. In his previous life, he would’ve called Taehyung and asked him to come play some Xbox, or grab a drink, or just hang around somewhere. Now... there’s no way he could leave the girl.

 

Outside, there’s a lone dog walker with his retriever beside him. He stares the surrounding buildings, and he remembers there’s a bigger playground back there. And a pond.

 

Jaemin finishes the last drawing, and puts the pencils neatly on a row. There’s a look in her eyes, but Hyukjae doesn’t know what it means.

 

“Pee-pee.”

 

Oh.

 

“Uh, go ahead...” he grunts and scrathes his head. She jumps down the chair and goes. Hyukjae tries to listen if everything’s alright, and after a few minutes he stands up. The bathroom’s door is open, but he doesn’t dare to peek. Maybe he should, though. Just so she wouldn’t, like, fall down and crack her head open.

 

“You okay there?” His voice sounds like dog’s squeek toy.

 

“Ready,” she says and meets him at the door.

 

“Did you wash your hands?”

 

She shakes her head. It was probably too high for her. Hyukjae looks around, and finds a small footstool that would give her enough height.

 

“Use this, so you can reach the faucet.”

 

She steps on it. Hyukjae opens the water, and she starts washing her tiny fingers.

 

“Soap,” he mutters, pressing the bottle. She automatically puts her palms under it and massages it to her hands. She knows what to do, she just wasn’t tall enough.

 

Hyukjae smiles a little.

 

“Should we go outside?” He knows it might still rain, but he just needs the fresh air. The walls are falling over him. He’s so used to being alone, that even sharing the apartment with someone felt strange. Not the least that it’s his daughter. She gives him the wide eyes, the curious ones.

 

“We can go see if the playground’s any good?”

 

“Okay,” she replies after a minute of thought.

 

Then a new matter hits him. What’s she supposed to wear? Is the hoodie enough under her jacket? Would she need a rain jacket? Dungarees? They probably didn’t even have those. How much a kid that age needed clothes to keep her warm?

 

“Do you mind if it rains?”

 

A shake of head again.

 

Okay. Deep breaths, some common sense. He thinks he saw a beanie and some sort of mittens in her backpack this morning. A good start.

 

 

 

The hospital is surprisingly quiet that Tuesday afternoon. A biker who had fallen, an older man with chest pain, woman with stomach pains that ended up her being pregnant, a kid with a burn… It hasn’t been nothing out of the ordinary for Donghae. Expect the fact that his coworker keeps following him like a hawk. It’s finally his break, and Donghae goes to the breakroom to eat his lunch.

 

He clicks the coffee maker on, and sets a plastic box on top of the table before taking a seat.

 

Jessica pops into the room, and Donghae groans. She has that look on her face; the annoying one. She pulls a chair for herself and sits directly towards the man with a smirk on her lips.

 

He opens the lid of his lunch box.

 

“So, who was the guy with the kid? The desperate one?” The dyed, light brown hair frames her face. She looks young, but she’s actually the same age as Donghae.

 

Jessica and him actually went to the same high school, but they were in different classes. Even in college, they had seen each other, but never had they been any friends until now. Donghae’s still not sure if he would call them that. She just happens to be nosy and way too interested about his life, although she’s still somewhat nice of a person. Most of the other women were old hags, or young and even more annoying than Jessica. There were guys, but he wasn’t one to get friendly with anyone easily.

 

“He seemed kinda familiar.”

 

“We went to same high school,” Donghae mutters, knowing that she would keep pushing and pushing if he kept his mouth shut.

 

“Really? Was he on your class? Oh wait—“ There’s a lightbulb moment on her face. “No way! It’s that guy… What’s his name?”

 

“Hyukjae,” he replies, rather uninterested. He rolls the chicken salad in the box with his fork.

 

“Hyukjae! Oh wow! Come on, that wasn’t his kid, was it?” She keeps rambling. “He’s the same age as you! What did he want, anyway?”

 

Donghae bites the insides of his cheek. He had been worrying all morning. What if Hyukjae blew up the washing machine? What if he burned down some food and the whole place would burn to ashes?

 

What should he tell her? Nothing? Everything? Would she keep her mouth shut about it?

 

At the same time, he wants to tell about it to someone. But Jessica… She’s probably even more annoying than his mother.

 

“He was your best friend, wasn’t he? But when we graduated you weren’t talking anymore...”

 

Donghae grumbles, but Jessica can’t make out any coherent words. With a sigh, he puts the fork down and stands up to pour himself coffee. He pours milk in it, and sighs.

 

“Yeah, we used to be friends.”

 

“What happened?”

 

This again.

 

“I was an ass,” Donghae grunts. Jessica quiets, and her eyes soften. “I was picked for the soccer team, and Hyukjae wasn’t. He didn’t like the team anyway, but I tried to belong. You know, I became one of the jocks. I pushed him away. Eventually I always chose the team over him, and at that point Hyukjae had changed. He had new friends and...”

 

He sits back down on the chair and takes a slow sip of the coffee. There’s the regret and longing and broken heart again.

 

Jessica licks her lips.

 

“You thought he’d gotten over you already?”

 

“Something like that. I was too busy with my new friends.”

 

“How did he change?”

 

“He… Well, he started to run to the parties. He drank, partied a lot. And the guys from the team… They always had something against him.”

 

She straightens on her chair, leaning against the backrest.

 

“You were afraid they’d kick you out if you hung with Hyukjae, weren’t you?” she asks.

 

Donghae shifts on his seat. She makes him uncomfortable, because she’s right. “You became cool when they picked you for the team. The boys which all the girls drooled after. Am I right?” He gives her a look, giving her the answer.

 

For a minute, she stays silent. Her face keeps away the fact that she still keeps thinking, hard. Her eyebrows furrow, and she seems a little hesitant.

 

Donghae manages to take a bite of the chicken.

 

“But after graduating...” she rumbles, massaging her temples.

 

Donghae freezes.

 

“Something happened that summer? There were a lot of rumors going around when we went to college. Hyukjae came to school for a while but… He dropped out, didn’t he? He did something...”

 

Until that summer, Donghae had thought about contacting Hyukjae again; if they could have gotten back to being friends since high school was over. But everything changed. There’s a faded memory of Hyukjae hanging with Jiah a lot back then.

 

“He killed someone,” Donghae finally retorts coldly.

 

Everything happening on the woman’s face stops. Her jaw drops.

 

Donghae can still remember the fuzz. Everyone was talking about that. It made him sick down on his stomach, and it still did.

 

“He was the drunk driver who ran over a young woman.”

 

“Shit,” Jessica gasps, hiding her mouth under her palm.

 

He didn’t know a lot about it. He hadn’t been able to look into the whole matter. All around him gossiped about it, and there were so many things said and passed around, that he hadn’t been sure what was true and which were lies. But it was a fact that Hyukjae had gotten someone dead. It’s the one thing he couldn’t get past.

 

“I remember one day in college… Hyukjae got into a very big fight with a guy who was that girl’s brother. They brought him to the hospital… Actually, that’s probably the last day I saw him at school.”

 

“Yeah…” Donghae mutters, gritting his teeth. He doesn’t have an appetite anymore. And suddenly thoughts about Hyukjae start filling his head. He had never thought how the accident had affected Hyukjae himself. He didn’t realize what it must have been for him. It was probably because of that that Hyukjae isn’t on speaking terms with his parents. Was there anyone in his life then? Jiah? That couldn’t have done any goood.

 

Time passes as Donghae focuses on the thoughts and doesn’t notice how Jessica watches him, observing.

 

“The kid… Is she Hyukjae’s?” she eventually asks quietly.

 

Donghae nods. “Her mother...” he clears his throat, “Her mother left him behind Hyukjae’s door after four years. She didn’t want anything to do with the kid any more. She’s… Into narcotics, too...”

 

Jessica looks flabbergasted. “He came… to ask for your help.” The realization of the day she met him hits her.

 

“He didn’t know what to do...”

 

She picks an orange candy for herself from the bowl that stands in the middle of the break room table. She chews it, brains seemingly doing a lot of thought work.

 

“Wow. Just wow. What did you do?”

 

Donghae fidgets, plucking his fingernails. “I’ve been staying at his place. Help him around. He decided to keep her, because the mother is obviously not capable of taking care of a child.”

 

“You what?” she gasps. “That’s quite a favor to do.”

 

Donghae knows that. He doesn’t even know why. To make amends with the past, for leaving his friend? For not being there when he would’ve needed him the most?

 

Something flickers in Jessica’s eyes, but she doesn’t say a word right away.

 

“You were in each other’s pockets in high school. You feel for him, don’t you?”

 

God, he hates the way she keeps questioning him.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snarls. More like a scared fox than a mad dog.

 

“Just pointing out things.” She takes a chocolate from the bowl this time. “You were the only one who never had a girlfriend. Never. And in here… You’re so oblivious to all the girls that try to flirt with you.”

 

The fork drops.

 

She smirks. “You wanted to be like everyone else, so you pushed Hyukjae away. You were falling for him and making it to the soccer team… It was just the push you wanted. So you made a choice. Head over heart.”

 

Donghae doesn’t say a word. Everything stucks down on his throat and cold shivers run down his skin. His stomach churns and turns.

 

Jessica watches the whitening face of her coworker. She snorts. “I’m not wrong, am I?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Donghae grunts and pours his salad into the trash can, rushing out the break room.

 

 

 

The kid looks a bit like a starfish as she walks in front of Hyukjae along the pavement. He had found some outer pants to put over the regular ones, and a light shirt under the girl’s hoodie. A yellow jacket, a beanie and mittens and they’d been good to go. For himself, he’d thought the hoodie would be enough. He has never been the outdoor kind of person, so finding himself something hadn’t been that easy. He’s relieved though, that Jaemin’s backpack at least hid some of that important stuff.

 

It’s August, but it isn’t exactly cold yet. At the moment, the rain has stopped and he’s grateful for that. He doesn’t want the kid to get sick the minute he carries her outside.

 

Donghae’s voice inside his head, he’s even taken a mini sized bag of chocolate cereals in his pocket. If the kid got hungry, he thought.

 

Hyukjae takes a deep breath, hoping that the time would fly faster. He feels like a fish out of water. He has some instincts, but he’s not exatly a mother. Nothing came easy for him. A mouther would know what to do, even a quite bad one…

 

The gravel starts crunching under their shoes as the asphalt turns to a dirt road. It’s surrounded with grass, few low fences here and there around the buildings. The playground looms ahead, and Hyukjae finds himself surprised that there are kids playing, and a few women sitting on the bench beside it even if the weather isn’t great.

 

But the sight gives him some creeps, and he doesn’t have to courage to face the women and other kids yet. He eyes the pond a bit further along, seeing nothing but birds and ducks quacking around headlessly.

 

He really misses Donghae. Not for the other’s sake… He thinks, but he just wants the company. It’s scaring to be alone when it feels like he has two left feet.

 

Jaemin watches the playground thoughtfully, but for Hyukjae’s relief, she turns away from it and almost crashes his leg. They walk the other way, and the circling thoughts stop inside his head for a minute. The air has managed to calm his nerves just a bit.

 

After a few minute walk, Jaemin wandering around him and curiously observing the surroundings, they arrive at the pond. There’s a bench near a tree, and Hyukjae sats down on it as he reaches it. Jaemin halts to stare the ducks.

 

“Don’t go too near the water. We don’t want to go for a swim,” Hyukjae notes.

 

He inhales the autumn air. Exhales. Inhales. He tries to tuck his hands into his hoodie’s kangaroo pocket, but he stops when his fingers meet the bag of cereal. He pulls it out, thoughtfull.

 

“You want to feed the ducks?”

 

Jaemin turns to give him a curious look, and starts walking towards him. A duck follows her movement obediently, and they soon start rushing to them when Hyukjae rustles the bag. He tears the bag open.

 

“Give me your hands,” he says softly. The kid obeys. Hyukjae pours few brown cereals onto her hands, and the girl stares at him as if it is the most adventurous thing she’s done.

 

“You can throw the cereals for them. They seem hungry.”

 

She throws a cereal, and it lands on the grass. One of the ducks notices it and it rushes towards it, quacking excitedly. The duck chews the cereal and quacks commandingly.

 

A little giggle escapes Jaemin’s lips.

 

Another cereal flies, and the ducks run for it.

 

She giggles again, and her almond eyes twinkle like stars on a clear sky.

 

Hyukjae wonders how anyone could’ve ever thrown her away like that.

 

 

 

Donghae shuts the door after him, the conversation with Jessica still daunting him as he takes his jacket off and puts it neatly on the racket. He sees mittens and a jacket thrown over the floor, abandoned.

 

It’s 5:32pm, and he’s actually early. At least Jessica was nice enough to let him leave before his shift's end.

 

But it’s quiet in the apartment, and Donghae halts. Why is it so silent? He puts down his bag and without taking his shoes off, he walks into the apartment. The tv doesn’t peal. Only the kitchen’s light is on, and as he passes it, he notices the dirty plates on the counter. At least Hyukjae hasn’t forgotten to feed themselves.

 

The living room is dim, but when he reaches it, he sees the reason for the mysterious silence.

 

Hyukjae is slumping on the couch, legs laying on top of it. He’s snuggled in the crook of the armrest and the corner, snoring. The girl’s knocked out, sleeping over the man’s legs, a hand tied around his knee, his thigh as her pillow.

 

“Rough day, huh?” Donghae whispers to himself, smiling.


	14. Fourteen

. . fourteen . .

 

 

Hyukjae wakes up to the noises coming from the kitchen. Stirring, he notices his leg has gone numb. His tired eyes focus on the slump laying over him, seeing the girl and the dark strands of her hair. Watching his every move, he shifts the girl on the sofa, placing a pillow under her head before he stands up, sneaking to the kitchen.

 

Something cooks in the kettle, and a variety of vegetables are spread on a cutting board before Donghae, who seems to be in his own thoughts as he works.

 

“Smells nice,” Hyukjae mutters, and Donghae jumps on his feet.

 

“Don’t do that!” the younger hisses, turning towards the other who eyes him with amusement, the other end of his lips quirking up.

 

Hyukjae takes the apple juice from the fridge, drinking straight from the bottle. Donghae glowers, cutting an onion in half.

 

“Don’t do that either.”

 

Hyukjae rolls his eyes, and takes a glass from the counter he’s pretty sure he’s used before. No words are shared as Donghae keeps cutting the carrots. He just watches. The other uses the knife expertly. He wouldn’t have thought that Donghae could be one to cook.

 

“I see you managed to wash your clothes… Didn’t know you like pink clothes though,” the nurse mutters after a while, placing the onion mince aside.

 

Hyukjae remembers the drying rack in the hallway, where few of his previously white shirts are now hanging, reddish. He doesn’t say anything. Next time, he might remember to was the whites separately.

 

“I brought the clothes for Jaemin...” Donghae notes absent-mindedly, throwing the carrots into the pot. “My mom put some toys there as well. Plushies, Legos, some dolls, a few books.”

 

Hyukjae humms.

 

Donghae is as hard to read as ever. The face remains the same, no emotions clear in sight. He wants to talk, just for the mere sake of it. But Hyukjae’s not sure if he has the right to ask about his day, or if Donghae’s even interested of sharing anything. They’re not friends anymore. But he doesn’t want to think that the nurse is there completely against his own will, either. After all this time, he still said yes, twice, when he asked his help. Why is that, if he doesn’t really want to be here?

 

“We went to feed the ducks at the pond,” the words slip through his lips. He’s spent all day with a four year old that doesn’t talk much yet. Jaemin’s not much of a conversationalist. Not that he’s much of that himself, but at this point he just wants a moment talking with someone of his own age.

 

Donghae gives a short laugh. “Yeah?”

 

“Jaemin fed them cereals. I hope we didn’t kill them.” He takes another glass of the juice. “She was...different. She thought it was funny.”

 

“What else did you do?” Donghae replies. Hyukjae’s not really sure if he’s actually interested or not, but he doesn’t really give a damn.

 

“She draws. I think she’s pretty good. She likes to watch Paw Patrol. We watched a few episodes.”

 

For Donghae’s surprise, Hyukjae starts taking plates for them, then glasses, utensils.

 

“How was your day?”

 

Donghae watches Hyukjae’s back, biting his lip.

 

“Uneventful,” he mutters back. The conversation with Jessica is still clear in his mind. He has never really talked about all of that with anyone. Their past, even if unilaterally, his feelings, Hyukjae’s accident… If he’s completely honest, he finds himself wanting to ask Hyukjae about it. But would asking be disastreous? Is he too much of a random ‘stranger’ to ask? Would Hyukjae get mad?

 

Instead, he asks: “Do you have any coffee?”

 

“Sure,” Hyukjae looks a little confused. Uneventful? He couldn’t say anything else? He opens one of the higher cabinet doors, taking out a bag of coffee. From the lower row, he finds the coffee maker he hasn’t used in a while. He only drinks coffee occassionally. Mostly hungover. He makes a pot, and clicks the machine on. Donghae cleans after himelf, putting the knives and the board into the sink, the spices back to their places, and takes two mugs for the coffee.

 

Before the coffee is ready, they don’t talk. Donghae’s too frustrated towards his bubbling curiosity. Hyukjae wonders if making Donghae stay is only torture for him.

 

Jaemin still asleep, the kitchen smelling like coffee, Donghae pours the mugs full. He’s the first one to sit down at the table. Hyukjae leans against the fridge, the mug on his hand. Donghae doesn’t look any less put together than in the morning. And how does the other know he drinks coffee, even if rarely?

 

“Why...” Donghae’s voice splits the kitchen. He’s too curious. Probably suicidal when he finally drops the question. “Why did you drop out of school?”

 

Where is this coming from? Why is he interested? After all these years... Donghae has not asked a single personal thing about Hyukjae except things that were about the girl in some way. Why this? Why did he have to turn the knife in the old wound? But it doesn’t look like he’s doing it purely out of spite. Donghae sounds careful; he knows he’s walking on thin ice. Yet he asked anyway.

 

Hyukjae feels the walls bulding up higher around him. That time of his life was the worst. He rarely thinks about it, because it makes him feel so worthless. A failure. Which he is, but someway he’s learnead to live with it. But it still is a subject that makes him vulnerable.

 

“Why do you ask?” Hyukjae replies, voice low, suspicious. He shifts against the wall that covers the side of the fridge.

 

Donghae gives him a rare, softer look. He fingers the pen, steering his eyes to the newspaper where Jaemin has scribbled something. He can’t quite make out what it is.

 

“I just… I haven’t heard it from you.”

 

“And you care what I have to say?” Hyukjae’s nose wrinkles.

 

“I—“

 

Hyukjae cuts Donghae off.

 

“I was in the hospital for three weeks after the guy attacked me. I didn’t wake up for a week, I was so badly beaten. I don’t even remember what he did to me,” he starts, stiff, but his voice gives the annoyance away. “He thought I killed his sister because I was drunk, like everyone else. You think so too, don’t you? Everyone was talking about it, what else could you think?” Hyukjae continues, more angrily, gritting his jaw. He finally sits down on the other chair, opposite to Donghae. “But what do you know? You weren’t there.”

 

“Hyukjae...”

 

“For your information, I wasn’t drunk,” he snarls. “I was driving my father’s car, I was coming back to Seoul because I went to see my sister after I heard Jiah was pregnant. It was late, I had driven for hours.”

 

Donghae turns the coffee mug, feeling a punch inside his stomach.

 

“I fell asleep. Asleep! For a split second! I woke up and saw the woman crossing the street. I didn’t have time to react. I crashed her, yes. She died in the hospital... She’s dead because I fell asleep on the wheel!”

 

Donghae stares at him, afraid, confused. The realization that he’s only trusted other people’s words hits him. Hyukjae’s angry, and for a reason.

 

“Involuntary manslaughter. But the woman’s family filed a lawsuit. You know my dad’s a lawyer. I won, but I had to pay compensation. A lot of it. I had gotten my girlfriend pregnant and then my dad needs to save my ass in court. They weren’t happy. It was too much for them to realize their son is a fuck up who makes a mistake after another,” he fumes, but his body is rigid. His eyes are dark, blazing. He feels betrayed. By everyone. He was completely alone when everything just fell down.

 

“I dropped out because my parents refused to pay my college after the compensation and my medical bills. I didn’t have the money to pay it myself, and I’d already missed three weeks of school. I couldn’t walk for a month without crutches or a wheelchair. When I finally could, dad threw me out. We haven’t talked after that. I lived with my sister for a while. I’ve had some odd jobs to pay the bills after that. My sister helps me out, whenever she can. So there. There you have it. The truth. For once in my life, I wasn’t drunk. I was a mess—and I’m still a mess. Now I have another mistake to take care of.” But the last sentence, he regrets immediately. Jaemin may have been a mistake at the beginning, but now… This time he will deal with it himself. He takes a peek that the girl is still sleeping. She doesn’t need to hear these things. Jaemin… She is the only thing that matters now.

 

He tries to catch his breath, fingers clasping around the mug so hard his knuckles have gone white. He didn’t give Donghae a chance to talk because he thought the man would just… Start making excuses. He has gone through hell. Donghae has no idea what it has been like.

 

Donghae is completely silent. His coffee seems a lot more interesting to him than Hyukjae. But Hyukjae knows the look, he remembers it; Donghae’s beating himself up. And for once, it feels like a round win. For once, someone knows the truth. He can’t count the people he’s talked to about this, because there are none. For once, Donghae has to admit he’s been wrong about him. But will hearing about it change anything? Is Donghae still ashamed of him? At first, when Donghae started hanging out with the soccer team, Hyukjae had thought Donghae was just busy. But then it felt more like avoidance, which lead to him thinking he wasn’t cool enough anymore. Donghae was someone better than him. He wasn’t enough.

 

He’s never been enough.

 

A shaky breath reaches Hyukjae’s ears, and Donghae slides his fingers through his hair.

 

“I didn’t… I didn’t know,” he says. Hyukjae barely hears him. He scoffs back.

 

“Of course you didn’t.” Hyukjae walks away from the table, putting his empty mug into the sink. He doesn’t say anything when he disappears from the kitchen.

 

It takes a few minutes, until Donghae hears the shower running.

 

“Fuck,” he curses, so quiet that he only hears it himself.

 

 

 

The rest of the evening is quiet. Hyukjae tries to communicate with the girl, they watch some more Paw Patrol before it’s time to go to bed. But Donghae’s not tired. He couldn’t possibly sleep after that.

 

He knows he owes Hyukjae and apology, but he is too much of a coward to say it.

 

 

 

The next day, Donghae has an even earlier shift. He doesn’t wake Hyukjae up when he leaves at 7:15am.

 

 

 

When Hyukjae wakes up, a few hours later, he finds a yellow post-it note on the kitchen table.

 

There’s porridge in the fridge. Just reheat it. I’ll be back around 5pm.

 

With a sigh, Hyukjae goes to put the porridge in the microwave.

 

 

 

The whole morning, Hyukjae has tried to figure out Donghae. He seemed sorry when they went to sleep, but he didn’t say a word. He avoided him again, like old times. Hyukjae tried, but he wouldn’t look him in the eye. At a point, he gave up. Didn’t Donghae really dare to admit he was wrong once in his life? The sorrowful look in his already sad eyes told a whole lot, but it wasn’t everything. He had left Hyukjae himself. Hyukjae never had a say in it. He doesn’t need to apologize to Donghae for anything.

 

The sun shines behind the gray clouds, as Hyukjae tries hard to figure out the other man as he walks beside his daughter in the park. It’s warmer. Jaemin seems more open, even if she doesn’t say much. More curious, more lively. Her feet seem lighter.

 

Hyukjae eyes the playground ahead of them, counting five kids from a variety of age, and four women sitting on the bench. Swallowing his insecurities and deciding it might do some good to the girl to meet other children, he pulls the hood from his head. At least she would get some desensitization. The heck if the ladies would stare. He would let them.

 

There’s a carousel, a slide, a big sandbox with colorful toys, a climbing frame, few swings and some rocking things he can’t really name to begin with. The other looks like a pony, the other, maybe a bear or a motorcycle?

 

This time, Jaemin follows after him there and doesn’t turn away. Instead, she eyes the other kids. Hyukjae wonders how much she’s played with other children. Did her mom bring her out at all?

 

“We could check the swings,” he says softly, hiding his own fear. He doesn’t want the girl to mirror his every emotion. Maybe the other kids could help her get her out of her shell. Eventually, when she’d find the courage to socialize. Jaemin blinks at him and bites her lips, nodding.

 

“Come on,” Hyukjae continues, encouraging her. He wonders if she can lift herself up to the swing. She tries twice, before she succeeds.

 

“Hold on tight.”

 

He gives her a little boost. The swing starts moving back and forth. After a minute, he hears a little giggle. It makes his day just a tad better.

 

“You want to go faster?” he asks, a little hesitant. She nods once, and Hyukjae pushes the swing with a bit more force. Not too fast, he’s afraid she could fall. But she doesn’t, and for five more minutes they go on like that, in silence. Hyukjae takes note that he might worry too much.

 

For the day Hyukjae’s gotten himself into some dark jeans and a gray hoodie. He swears he doesn’t look like a regular dad, and he knows the women on the bench keep giving him the curious looks. One of them is older, rounder, with curls on her shorter hair. Other is young, maybe even Hyukjae’s age. She has a black, rather fashionable looking jacket and hair straight as a board, face on full makeup. Another has prams in front of her, obviously for a little one. The last seems to be reading a book. Her hair is dyed brown and tied to ponytail, opposite to the others. She’s maybe in her thirties.

 

“Daddy, off,” Jaemin suddenly says, and Hyukjae stops the swing. He furrows his brows, but when Jaemin jumps off of it and starts walking towards the sandbox, he sighs. There’s nothing to worry about, she just got bored. And for the first time, Hyukjae feels a little abandoned when the kid just goes on her own, and sits in the sandbox, taking a shovel and a bucket, starting to fill it.

 

He doesn’t know what to do. The bench where the women sit is full, but there’s another just next to it. What the heck is he scared of? That the women would eat him alive? He clears his throat, and wanders to the bench. He sits on the far end of it.

 

He hears the women murmur.

 

Anxious, he pulls out his phone, but first he gives a longing look towards his kid. But Jaemin happily plays by herself, and doesn’t seem too worried about her father. For a minute he manages to browse Facebook, when he hears a cough, and when he looks up, the oldest woman, the curls, talks to him.

 

“Is she yours? How old?”

 

All the women eye him, and Hyukjae tucks the phone back into his pockets. He straightens his slouch, stammering.

 

“Y-yeah… She’s four.”

 

The woman nods and they get back to their own conversation. Sometimes a kid runs to one of them, and his mother blows his nose. One of them goes to settle a fight. One kid comes for snacks, ad her mother gives her a slice of bread. But otherwise the women just watch and talk to each other. Sometimes they’re quiet, one reads a book, one of them changes a diaper for the baby in the prams. Hyukjae wonders if this is their life too. Everything turns around the child.

 

But as he takes a look of his daughter, he sees Jaemin has managed to build something that looks like a sandcastle. Hyukjae feels suddenly a tiny bit proud.

 

After half an hour, Jaemin puts the toys down and comes back to her dad. Hyukjae bends towards her, eyebrow raised.

 

“I’m hungry,” she says, yawning.

 

Hyukjae takes a look at his phone, checking the time. It’s around the same time they ate lunch yesterday.

 

“Let’s go home make something to eat, okay?”

 

She nods and clasp their hands together. Hyukjae is a little embarrassed about it. He’s not used to it, but it melts his heart a little. He hopes that he would be at least a bit better of a parent than her mother was.

 

 

Five minutes past five, the door stealthily opens and shuts again. The first night before Donghae got back to work, Hyukjae gave him the key without a second thought. It just makes things much easier.

 

The tv is on, but this time Hyukjae is not asleep. Jaemin hasn’t napped the whole day, and her eyes are drooping. The animals going on the screen have gone over Hyukjae’s head a while ago. He’s been thinking. Would Donghae still keep quiet? Would they keep this silent treatment going? He decides to test the waters.

 

“Hi,” he simply hollers. Donghae doesn’t answer him straight away. But it doesn’t take long before the male stands next to the couch, taking off his jacket.

 

“What’s this?” Donghae doesn’t greet, but at least he speaks.

 

Hyukjae shrugs. “I’m not sure. I fell off the wagon.”

 

“Did you go feed the ducks today?”

 

“No, we went to the playground,” Hyukjae mutters. “The women there are creepy.”

 

Donghae snorts. The older notices he looks a little tired, too.

 

“You hungry?”

 

“Always,” he replies. “I can go heat the soup we ate yesterday.” Hyukjae stands up. “That okay for you?”

 

Donghae nods, putting the jacket against his arm. When their eyes lock when Hyukjae purposefully keeps staring at him, he sees the shame in the other’s eyes. He also bites the insides of his cheek again, maybe thinking Hyukjae wouldn’t notice that. But he does.

 

 

About an hour and half after dinner, Jaemin has fallen asleep on the couch, the plush doggy on her arms she brought with her when she first appeared.

 

Hyukjae eyes her from the kitchen.

 

“I should go bring her to bed,” Donghae mutters quietly, drying his hands on the sides of his jeans.

 

“I can do it,” Hyukjae mutters, not seeing the stunned look on the other’s face.

 

He goes and puts the tv off, and cautiously lifts her on his arms. She stirs and snuffles, but doesn’t wake up. Bringing her to the bedroom, Hyukjae notices the clear night sky outside the window. He doesn’t remember seeing the stars before. Laying her down on the mattress and pulling the blanket over her tiny body, Hyukjae exhales warily. She snuggles closer to the dog, sighing contentedly.

 

When he returns, Donghae has finished putting the washed dishes into the cabinets, back turned towards Hyukjae. Hyukjae watches him for a while.

 

“Thank you,” he suddenly says, and Donghae turns to him.

 

“Huh?” His eyebrows are furrowed, his fringe fallen over his forehead.

 

“For being here.” Hyukjae leans against the wall, hands behind his back. In a way, he does it purposefully. He knows his words would confuse the other. But he’s still really not the man Donghae thinks he is. Or has been.

 

Donghae’s even more stunned. He steers his gaze away and crosses his arms above his chest. He’s changed a lot since high school. The scrawny boy with crooked teeth is no longer there, even if his heart’s the same as always. He’s gotten muscle, manned up.

 

“Hyukjae...” Donghae stutters. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You were an ass,” Hyukjae snorts. “You still are. But I know you’re sorry.”

 

Donghae lips open to say something, but he seems to change his mind about what he was about to say.

 

“It was a long time ago,” Hyukjae mutters ahead, opening the tv. The volume goes down.

 

It takes ten minutes, but finally Donghae sits down on the couch next to him, a book on his lap. It takes a few more minutes before Donghae tries to speak again.

 

“I mean what I said,” his voice is more confident again, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry I left.”

 

Hyukjae changes the channels, not knowing what to watch. But he feels accomplished that Donghae’s finally admitted it. He’s finally sitting next to him on the same couch, which he avoided like plague before. Hyukjae smirks to himself, kowing that he’s won one round of their stupid game of friends or not.

 

“You’re here now,” he replies.

 

 

14.11.17  
:)


	15. Fifteen

. . fifteen . .

 

 

The days start to repeat the same formula: Donghae wakes up first, and wakes up Hyukjae before he heads to work if it’s not too early. They eat porridge, cereals or scrambled eggs for breakfast. After that they either draw, watch tv, go feed the ducks or play at the playground, where Hyukjae keeps trying to listen to the women and Jaemin builds sandcastles. They come home, and Hyukjae reheats yesterday’s leftovers. Jaemin likes to watch Paw Patrol and build the Legos Donghae brought. Meanwhile, Hyukjae tries his best to do something useful; laundry, dishes, maybe vacuum. But often he just ends up slacking beside his daughter, watching the kids’ shows with her. He makes up some snacks, which is usually cereal, or some chopped fruit, or a sandwich. She doesn’t like ham, only cheese. Hyukjae doesn’t really have a lot of imagination to make up new ideas. They often take a nap in the afternoon, before Donghae returns and cooks them something. Hyukjae’s not very good at that either; so far he’s only managed to get banned from the kitchen altogether. Sometimes after dinner, one or the other bathes the girl. She could sit in the tub for hours, playing with plastic ducks or blowing bubbles if someone doesn’t put a timeline. Donghae studies. They watch some more tv, or draw. After some supper, Jaemin brushes her teeth and she’s fast to fall asleep. Donghae keeps studying for a while, before he heads to take a shower. Hyukjae stares at the ceiling or his phone, before he falls asleep.

 

His interactions with Donghae are a little vague and they mainly revolve around the same things over and over again. They bicker and argue, but Hyukjae keeps thinking Donghae is still keeping his distance, for whatever reason he’s yet to figure out.

 

But one thing he’s quite confident about: Donghae and Jaemin are getting along better every day. She’s still shy, but Hyukjae has noticed the change, even how slow it is. And Donghae is good with the kid, he doesn’t push her too hard, and often remembers to encourage Jaemin better than he does. Donghae gets surprised every day by her progress.

 

“Dongha-ii.”

 

“Dong-hae,” the nurse corrects softly, as he puts a Lego on top of another. The red and yellow bricks are starting to look something relative to a house.

 

“Ha-ii,” Jaemin chimes again.

 

For almost ten minutes the two have debated how Donghae’s name should be said. Jaemin doesn’t quite get it yet.

 

Hyukjae snorts to himself, finding the focused look on her daughter’s face rather adorable as her brows keep furrowing in concentration. The man watches the two with a smile. Donghae is sitting on the floor with Jaemin, and the Legos spread all over between them.

 

Hyukjae checks the time from his phone, the numbers showing 9:55am. It’s Donghae’s first day off from work after four days, and he wonders if Donghae would stay or leave. Because he really doesn’t need to stay; Hyukjae can’t force the younger to spend every day with them, but Donghae does seem like he’s in no hurry to get out. His whole presence confuses him, to tell the truth. Even if the other has apologized to him, it’s impossible to figure out if Donghae wants to be friends again or not. He’s there, but is Hyukjae stupid enough to think they could actually be friends again?

 

“It’s with an E, not I,” Donghae replies, still smiling; there is a lot more patience with the girl than he has with Hyukjae. His back leaning against the couch, he waits.

 

“Eee,” the girl huffs, and the letter itself is said correctly. “Donghai.”

 

“Donghae,” Hyukjae putts in to the conversation from the couch.

 

Jaemin stares at her father, mind obviously bubbling with something.

 

“Why no daddy, too?” she finally asks, eyes bright and innocent, lips on a pout.

 

Donghae boggles on the floor, and Hyukjae stares at the kid. They stare at each other for a good minute, both confused, for different reasons, Hyukjae mostly just thrown off guard.

 

The younger man takes a deep, rather nosy inhale. “Because—“

 

“If you call Donghae daddy too, how I’m supposed to know when you’re talking to me?” Hyukjae talks over, but he contemplates what Donghae was going to say. He can’t really see his face from the couch.

 

“Oh,” Jaemin mumbles, putting few blocks to their Lego house.

 

Donghae stands up from the floor, and Hyukjae’s eyes follow him closely. “Where are you going?”

 

“Bathroom,” Donghae notes, a little breathless, scratching his neck as he exits the living room without looking Hyukjae in the eye.

 

Is it something he said, again?

 

He turns towards his daughter. “One more time, okay? Donghae.”

 

“Donghae.”

 

“That’s right!” Hyukjae hollers happily. “Donghae, did you hear that!”

 

He doens’t get an answer, but the grins on the father’s and daughter’s faces are racing.

 

Donghae returns back to the living room after a minute, his face still flustered, which makes Hyukjae eye at him in confusion. Did he really say something that got to him?

 

“Donghae, did you hear what Jaemin just said?” he asks, frowning.

 

“Huh?” Donghae turns to look at him, but his eyes immediately wander somewhere else.

 

“Jaemin, what did you just said?”

 

“Donghae!” she chimes proudly, and Hyukjae observes closely Donghae’s response.

 

The brunet’s face turns from somber to slowly beaming, his toothy smile finally appearing. His mood change puzzles the older greatly, but at the same time, he can’t stop looking at Donghae; he’s so different with the girl, it seems he almost forgets everything around him – but with Hyukjae, he remains timid and withdrawn. And Hyukjae can’t put his finger around it.

 

He watches the two for a while, until the doorbell rings. The rings sound impatient, rather aggressive, and although the sound is totally different, it takes Hyukjae back to the day the girl appeared for a long second. It hasn’t been a week, yet it feels like it has been way longer than that, and at the same time, just yesterday. So many things has happened with as many changes to his daily life.

 

“Are you expecting someone?” Donghae asks, waking Hyukjae from his racing thoughts.

 

“N-no,” he mutters, eyebrows furrowed low as he stands up to get the door. He has no idea who it could be. His best guess would be Taehyung, maybe. Othan than him, there isn’t a lot of people who even knew where he lived.

 

Straightening his loose shirt and clearing his throat, he realizes that if the one behind his door is Taehyung, he would have a lot of explaining to do.

 

But when he opens the door, it’s not Taehyung.

 

It’s Jiah. Someone he would have least expected to see there. He stares at her for a second, the last encounter suddenly very fresh in mind. But his expression flashes from a surprised to an angry one very fast.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” he hisses, stepping forward in front of the gap that would let her see into his apartment. He observes the woman, eyes very stern and hostile, looking up and down through her essence. She doesn’t seem any better than last time. Actually it’s worse. The bags under her eyes, the redness on them, her messy hair and dishevelent clothes. She has her fingers clasped together in front of her, but Hyukjae can see the tremors. And as he stares longer, he can see that she’s been crying, or something like that; everything about her screams pitiful to him, and all the emotions Hyukjae feels start boiling closer to the surface.

 

“H-Hyuk,” she stammers, something in the tone sounding desperate. “It’s nice to see you,” she continues, but it isn’t sincere.

 

“Yeah, right,” he snarls back, “You were so thrilled to see me the last time.” He points the scar on his head.

 

“I’m sorry about that,” she sniffles, “I just… I just thought...”

 

Hyukjae grits his teeth tighter, gripping to the side of the door violently.

 

“I wan to see the girl,” Jiah pleads, her eyes starting to glimmer.

 

Hyukjae sees right through her. The woman is high – again, or still, and this is probably because she’s coming down from whatever she uses. The point when the effect of the drugs have started to fade.

 

“As if. I thought you said you never wanted to see either of us again?” he snaps, trying to keep his voice low, but it is starting to become impossible. He takes a fast peek towards the living room at the end of the hallway, seeing Donghae peeking from the couch worriedly.

 

“I know, Hyuk. I… I just want to see her,” she whines, trying to take a step closer, maybe a glance inside if the girl would be there. But Hyukjae prevents him, forcing her to back off as he takes a step forward, blocking her.

 

“No.”

 

“But she’s my daughter! I have the right to see her!” She’s desperate. Desperate for something. Maybe she’s trying to convince herself that seeing Jaemin would make her feel better about herself. Just Jiah’s style to do something like that. Hyukjae remembers her doing the same back then, and now he understands what an idiot he’s been for ever falling for her lies. If she did something stupid, she would first blame Hyukjae for it, and later come crawling back for forgiveness and whatever the hell she was after.

 

“I said no,” he growls, pushing the door backwards, but it doesn’t shut yet.

 

“I want to see Jaemin! Jaemin, are you there?! Come see mommy! Mommy misses you,” she tries shouting to the apartment, but Hyukjae pushes her further away from it.

 

“She doesn’t want to see you!” the man hisses again. His body trembles in anger. He just wants the woman to disappear. She’s already shown that she has no real interest in the kid. “You gave your right to see her the minute you dropped her at my door! You need to leave.”

 

The tears are already pouring down her colorless cheeks, and her tremors have gotten worse. Hyukjae knows that she would cause a scene when she doesn’t get her demands met.

 

“I’m not leaving anywhere! Jaemin!” she yells, trying to struggle her way through as she grabs Hyukjae’s shirt and arm, trying to push or pull him away from the door. “I need to see my daughter!” she screams, ripping and trashing against the male despite him fighting back. “Fuck you Hyukjae, you can’t stop me! Let me see her!”

 

“The hell I will!” he snarls, trying to keep his cool but it’s starting to get difficult as she keeps struggling, scratching and pushing against him. “Can’t you see who’s the problem here?!”

 

“Let me see her!” she keeps screaming, probably waking the whole building from its slumber. She scratches Hyukjae’s arm, and he feels the sting, but he doesn’t budge until she suddenly bites his palm, causing him to howl in pain and joggle just enough for her to slip pass by him.

 

“Jaemin!” she yells.

 

“Jiah, no!” Hyukjae manages to catch her by clasping to her jacket, pulling him back off from the entrance.

 

Donghae shouts his name in frighten, and Hyukjae flashes him a look, shouting at the younger man hurriedly, “Stay with her!”

 

He shuts the door with his foot by force, making sure she won’t get in another time. He grabs her from behind, dragging her further. “You’re not seeing her, can’t your hear! I said no! You made your damn choice! You left her all by yourself!”

 

Still struggling, she keeps trashing on his hold.

 

“Let me go! I fucking hate you! LET ME SEE HER!” Jiah screams even louder, her screeches echoing in the otherwise quiet hallways.

 

Hyukjae feels so frustrated and angry and betrayed and disappointed. Why is all this shit falling to his shoulders?

 

“You need to fucking calm down! You are high as a kite, you’re not thinking straight! You seriously think I would let you meet her like this? She must be so fucking proud of you, having an addict as a mother,” he growls deeper, like a pitbull in rage, even when he knows it might just provoke her more. But he’s not going to let go.

 

He doesn’t have time to think about his neighbors. The only thing Hyukjae can focus on, is protecting the girl.

 

“I have rights! Let go off me!” she goes on, suddenly managing to clasp her fingers around Hyukjae’s hair, tucking on it tightly.

 

“You need to calm the fuck down!”

 

But she just screams louder and louder, scratching the man with her nails, and hitting him anywhere she’s able to. And at some point, biting Hyukjae again, and causing him to jolt, she has her chance at throwing a punch at him.

 

It’s impossible to think straight. Everything circles so loud in Hyukjae’s head. He’s afraid she’d manage to hurt the girl if she had the chance, and he tries everything to keep her away from the door. But the battling is getting exhausting, and Hyukjae just wants it to stop, but somehow, she keeps fighting back, not giving him a way to talk her down.

 

He doesn’t notice, as he struggles in the middle of the hallway, when a door across his apartment opens, and a man rushes outside.

 

“Hey, hey! Lady!” the man shouts, hurrying to help Hyukjae who’s currently defending himself from her endless bitchfit. The man grabs her shoulder, but she keeps scratching, kicking and hitting Hyukjae with all the energy she has. It’s as if she’s gone rapid; nothing she says makes sense and it’s mostly gibberish and profanities, her mouth foaming in madness.

 

The man manages to pull her off Hyukjae, pushing her against the floor after she’s smacked Hyukjae’s head hardly against the floor.

 

A woman from the same apartment has a phone on her ear, talking with someone. Her eyes are worried and she seems scared, but who wouldn’t? Jiah is crazy, and Hyukjae’s gotten the worst of it.

 

Lying on the floor, head spinning from the impact and every part of his body stinging and aching in agony, Hyukjae slowly hears distant footsteps from the staircase. His neighbor keeping Jiah still against the floor with difficulties, as she never stops screaming, two blue suited police men appear. He doesn’t hear what they say, he can’t make sense of it.

 

“You need to calm down, M’am!” one of the police orders, as he grabs her from her armpits, freeing Hyukjae’s neighbor. “Can you hear me? You’re just making this harder for yourself if you keep resisting. Let’s calm down! You need to come to the station with us.”

 

The other police, a little older, bends down next to Hyukjae.

 

It’s when Donghae appears from Hyukjae’s apartment, holding and protecting Jaemin in his arms. She’s crying, and obviously scared. Jiah’s voice has reached most likely every apartment during the incident.

 

“Hyukjae!” Donghae gasps, fear and worry written all over his face. The man and the woman from across the hall give him a look as he rushes closer.

 

“Are you alright, sir? Do we need to call an ambulance? She’s going with us,” he says, as the other police struggles down the stairs with Jiah, who has finally calmed down a notch.

 

For one last time, Jiah’s scream reach Hyukjae’s ears. “You’re not any better than me, you piece of shit! Did you hear that, Hyukjae?!”

 

“I’m fine,” Hyukjae finally struggles to say, swallowing.

 

“Are you sure, sir?” the police replies, giving a look at the bystanders.

 

Donghae decides to put in, “I-I’m a certified nurse, I can take a look at him. He’s my… He’s my friend.”

 

“Tell me your name, sir. Can you please tell what happened here? We need a statement,” the officer continues.

 

“L-Lee Hyukjae,” he starts, but struggles to put words to together as his head feels like it’s going to explode. It’s just too much. Jaemin’s cries creeps to his ears, and it’s impossible to think straight.

 

“Can I please take a look at him first?” Donghae stammers, at the same time as he tries to comfort the girl on his embrace.

 

The woman from the neighboring apartment suddenly steps forward, waving her hand to Donghae suggestively. She’s in her thirties, a woman with a soft smile and an essence completely opposite to Jiah’s.

 

“I can hold her as you make sure your friend’s alright? Would that be alright? We have two kids,” she offers calmly.

 

The kindness and trusworthy nature appeal to Donghae enough to let her hold Jaemin after a short ponder. “T-thank you,” he says as he hands the girl over, even if it breaks his heart a little. But she’s only frightened, and not in any anger any more.

 

The woman’s husband starts talking, addressing the officer, “We heard the fight in the hallway, and as it seemed to escalade I came to help. She kept demanding to see the girl.”

 

The police nods, looking at Hyukjae again.

 

“Can you tell me the attacker’s name, Mr. Lee?”

 

“It’s… It’s my ex-girlfriend… Moon Jiah. The girl’s mother. She’s using—she’s… I wouldn’t let her meet Jaemin. I couldn’t trust her in that state. She was high, as usual.”

 

“Alright, sir. I’ll let your friend…?”

 

“Lee Donghae,” the brunet mutters.

 

“I’ll let Donghae check on you, we’re taking her to the station. Has this happened before?”

 

“She attacked him just last week. She threw a plate at him,” Donghae notes to the officer. “You can see the scar on his forehead...”

 

“I see. I would like you to come at the station later, to give a proper statement. You might want to think about filing a restraining order. Has she harmed the child?”

 

“Uh, we’re not sure exactly. Not today, the least,” Donghae continues with a wary exhale, finally crouching down next to Hyukjae.

 

“So you’re going to be alright?”

 

“I think so," Hyukjae mutters.

 

"Thank you, officer,” Donghae says quietly, eyeing Hyukjae as he bites his lips between his teeth in concern.

 

The police officer nods one last time, before he takes his leave to his partner.

 

It’s suddenly very quiet in the hallway except from Jaemin’s muffled, tired sobs in the background, as Donghae focuses on Hyukjae, his neighbors still standing close by.

 

Hyukjae has managed to sit up, but he feels dizzy. And it’s not just him hitting his head, again, but everything. Just everything.

 

Donghae stares at him, seeing how the skin around his eye is starting to bruise and a part of his jaw redden along the few scratches all over his cheeks, the bite marks on his hand and on his arm, and the blood running from his nose.

 

“Does anything feel broken?” Donghae asks the older male softly, taking a look at the man’s occipital which seems to be intact.

 

“No,” Hyukjae murmurs, still breathless.

 

Donghae examines Hyukjae’s eyes, they seem normal. But he lifts Hyukjae’s hands, staring at the deep bite marks, aghast. The skin is broken a bit in few places, and they would leave some scarring for a while. “She bit you.”

 

“She was just…” Hyukjae exhales, the exhaustion bubbling inside, a pile on his throat burning up. “She went crazy. She wouldn’t listen...”

 

“I know, I heard everything… I’m sorry I couldn’t help you—“

 

“I asked you to look after Jaemin.”

 

“But still—,” the look on Donghae’s face is frustrated and worried at the same time. It seems like he’s blaming himself again.

 

“Not your fault,” Hyukjae huffs.

 

Donghae turns the palm of Hyukjae’s hand, making him hiss. He furrows his eyebrows. “Your wrist hurts?

 

Hyukjae grimaces. “A little, yeah.”

 

“There might be a fracture,” Donghae swallows, holding Hyukjae’s other arm that seems fine. “Can you stand?”

 

“Y-yeah,” the older mutters, and he lets Donghae support his back as he tenuously stands up. His head keeps spinning, and his limbs doesn’t feel strong enough. He leans against Donghae, and manages to get up with his help. Hyukjae turns to look at his daughter, feeling the anger all over again as he sees the red and puffy eyes, and the dried tears covering her cheeks. She’s quieted down by the exhaustion, leaning against the woman’s shoulder and gripping on her shirt. He realizes he’s one of the women from the park; the playground moms. He turns to look at his other neighbor, the man he’s seen a few times but has never talked to.

 

“Thank you,” Hyukjae says to him, “I don’t know what could’ve happened if you didn’t stop her.”

 

“Anytime. I’m Sungmin, and this is my wife Saeun,” Sungmin says with a smile. His wife nods with another similar smile.

 

“Nice to meet you, despite the circumstances... I’m so sorry this had to happen,” Hyukjae replies tiredly.

 

“Doesn’t seem like it was your fault,” Saeun says softly, as she pets the girl’s back in slow circles. Jaemin’s about to fall asleep soon.

 

“I should call mom,” Donghae says after a minute, “She could watch Jaemin for a while.”

 

Hyukjae gazes at the man, unsure. Hasn’t he already caused enough ruckus? “Is that a good idea?” he asks, licking his dry lips. He tastes the blood on his tongue, and he wipes his nose, wincing.

 

“She won’t mind,” Donghae assures.

 

“I can watch Jaemin until your mother gets here?” Saeun cuts in, “Our kids are with my parents. I don’t mind.”

 

Hyukjae clenches his jaw. “I can’t ask you to do that...”

 

“But it’s alright, we don’t mind at all,” Sungmin says with another smile.

 

Hyukjae’s stomach churns. He feels so bad for these people. He’s embarrassed and tired. For all his life, he’s just causing trouble after another.

 

“We appreciate it, really,” Donghae ends up ending the conversation, knowing from Hyukjae’s face that he would have wanted to decline otherwise. “I need to clean those cuts, I can’t watch the girl at the same time. You might have a concussion. It was a hard blow.”

 

Hyukjae grumbles, but Donghae’s bossy stare shuts him up.

 

 

 

It takes five minutes before Jaemin falls asleep. When Saeun has put her to bed in Hyukjae’s bedroom, she returns to the living room whilst Sungmin has taken the right to make some coffee for them. The same time, Hyukjae sits on the couch, as Donghae cleans up the mess Jiah has caused.

 

Hyukjae keeps wincing and whining, and Donghae tries his best to clean up his face. The nosebleed hasn’t wanted to stop, but as most of it has come out, Donghae has ordered Hyukjae to hold his nose and tilt just minimally, keeping his head over his heart.

 

“Stop wincing,” Donghae groans, as he pats one of the scratches on his left cheek. It’s the only scratch that’s bled, although just a little.

 

“Bud id stings,” Hyukjae replies with a nasal tone, giving a look of slight annoyance to the other.

 

Donghae looks back at him, and for a moment it seems just like he’s going to sneeze, but he’s just trying to hold a laugh. “Stop talking,” he snorts instead. He tries to focus on the wounds. And for a minute the soft look lingers, until the concern partly returns.

 

Hyukjae can’t really do much else but stare at the other. It’s already the second time the other is patching him up, and this time, it feels a little gentler. As unnoticeably as possible, his eyes wander from the young man’s straight nose to the little worry-wrinkle between his eyebrows, then down on his lips. Donghae then happens to bite his lips, and Hyukjae hurries his peripheral vision towards the kitchen, where Sungmin pours a cup of coffee to his wife.

 

“Donghae’s mom will be here in 15 minutes,” Hyukjae notes after he stops holding his nose. The haemorrhage has seemed to stop, at last.

 

Sungmin nods. “We’re not in a hurry, if there’s anyway we can help, just ask.”

 

“Thanks,” Hyukjae mutters back. He is sincere, though.

 

“You remember me from the playground, don’t you?” Saeun suddenly says, the corner of her lips quirking. “I always wondered where Jaemin’s mother was, since she never came. But I get it now.”

 

Hyukjae turns his gaze to her, a little flustered.

 

“We scare you, don’t we? The park moms,” she teases.

 

In a way, Hyukjae likes the mood change, although it’s a little embarrassing now. He clears his throat.

 

“You do,” Donghae snorts.

 

Hyukjae scowls at him.

 

“Donghae—was it? You should come there too sometime.”

 

Donghae smiles, but he’s a little awkward. There’s a certain gleam in her eyes, and he’s not sure if she has some hidden meaning in her words. Instead, he steers his focus on Hyukjae’s wrist. He turns it a little, making Hyukjae gringe and hiss again, verifying his initial assumption.

 

“Darn, you do know that hurts when you do that? Are you doing it on purpose?” Hyukjae scowls again, watching Donghae’s hands suspiciously.

 

“There’s most likely a small fracture,” Donghae mutters matter of factly. “I’ll wrap it up when mom brings my stuff.”

 

Hyukjae’s scowl withers as fast as it came. It really seems like Donghae’s in his element; helping, caring. But is he like that just because he has to? Is he just another patient for him, or does he really care? Donghae’s features are soft, he’s a little more relaxed with him than usually, and Hyukjae notices he very much prefers that to the other version that rather avoids him all the time.

 

And although he doesn’t show it to the outside, he can’t quite stop thinking about whas has just happened, and it gnaws him. Jiah’s last words before the police took her away won’t leave him alone, or without a mark. What if she’s right? That although different, he wouldn’t be any better to Jaemin in the long run? Is he really any better than her?


	16. Sixteen

. . sixteen . .

 

 

“How are you holding up?”

 

Hyukjae sits at the dinner table, holding a packet of ice over his eye and nose. It’s been a few hours since Donghae’s mother showed up at his apartment, and asked if they wanted to spend the night at their place; the woman had generously offered to look after Jaemin for the rest of the day, so Hyukjae could have a moment to rest.

 

Mrs. Lee had cooked them lunch, and the delicious scent still remains in the kitchen that’s at least three times bigger than his own. The woman leaning her jaw against her palm, observes Hyukjae across the table. Jaemin’s still napping, now brought to the guest room next to the kitchen, and even if Hyukjae knows there’s nothing to worry about, he feels a little unsettled when the girl’s not in his sight. His head is so full of garbage, all the thoughts and emotions bundled up and giving him a headache.

 

So how on earth is he supposed to describe how he feels?

 

“I don’t know,” he finally grumbles, voice a little unsteady. The painkillers Donghae has given him have eased all the pain all over his body, but the distress inside hasn’t lessened. The bile on his throat hasn’t gone away. The churning down on his stomach is still there, too. But he’s grateful for the help Donghae’s mother has offered them. He doesn’t think he has any energy left for anything else. For the first time in a while, he has the opportunity to take a breath.

 

He doesn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching, until Donghae opens his mouth at the doorstep.

 

“I found something to prop your wrist with,” the brunet notes, “Since mom forgot to bring everything I asked for.” Donghae gives her mother a look of disapproval, as she had frogotten to bring any of the medical supplies to Hyukjae’s place.

 

Hyukjae gazes up to the male, looking at the wooden splint with a grimace. “Is that really necessary?”

 

Donghae sits down on the chair next to him, taking Hyukjae’s hand on to his own.

 

“It will heal faster if it keeps steady,” he mutters, placing the splint against the wrist and putting a bandage over it. “You’d just make it worse if I don’t put this on.”

 

“Fine,” Hyukjae scoffs, eyeing the splint.

 

“How’s your head?”

 

“Still aching,” Hyukjae replies, but the ache is rather manageable. He’s more worried about the fact how emotional he feels inside. He’s not one to express his feelings, especially the more personal ones. This time, everything that has happened, has hit a bit too close to home. For the first time it is a bit too much, the deeply hid emotions lurking beyond the appearances, waiting for him to crack.

 

Donghae’s mother watches them, until she stands up to bring her empty tea cup to the sink.

 

“I’ll go to make a bed for you,” she says with a comforting smile.

 

Hyukjae nods, relieved that she’s asked for them to stay the night. At the moment, he wants to be anywhere else than home.

 

“Thanks. I could use a nap,” he mutters. He’s gotten quite used to the afternoon naps with his daughter, and today, he feels especially weary and ready to sink on to a mattress.

 

The woman watches her son for a moment, who’s currently collecting the spare bandages away.

 

“Donghae would you come help me with it?” she asks.

 

Donghae turns to look at her, shrugging. “Sure.”

 

 

 

 

 

Upstairs, as Donghae puts the pillows on top of the made bed, she speaks again, but Donghae’s already seen it coming.

 

“You should talk with him,” she says, giving him a pleading look.

 

Donghae bites the insides of his cheeks.

 

The woman sighs. “He’s had a hell of a day.”

 

“I know, mom,” Donghae hisses, sitting on the bed. “I just...” he starts, but he doesn’t know how to keep going.

 

“Hyukjae trusts you. He needs a friend, and you do care about him, so why are you trying so hard to push him away?” she asks, although she thinks she knows the reason. Donghae is her son after all, and in her eyes Donghae is very obvious, whereas Hyukjae is the oblivious one.

 

“Mom, I…” Donghae swallows, although there’s nothing to swallow. He knows he should talk with him, he doesn’t know how to. He wants to, but he’s too afraid of so many things. Especially of himself.

 

“Sweetie,” she sits next to him, as Donghae leans down and buries his face into his hands, frustrated. “You pushed him away in high school on purpose, didn’t you?” she continues, placing her hand on her son’s shoulder lovingly.

 

“Mom,” Donghae grunts in slight annoyance, letting out a tired exhale. He has never talked about it. He’s never told her about it, yet she knows. She always does.

 

“You know I love you, no matter what?” she notes gently, observing her son who shifts under the touch, uncomfortable. “Be honest with me, okay?”

 

“About what?” he asks, giving her a side eye.

 

“Do you love him?”

 

Donghae stiffens, cursing under his breath.

 

“Donghae, when you were kids, Hyukjae was your best friend. No one else made you happier than him. I’ve never seen you so happy. And that’s the only thing that matters to me—me and your father both. That you’re happy. And now that he’s back in your life, you look at him the same way, although you try to hide it very well.”

 

“Oh god, mom,” Donghae whines, massaging his forehead behind his hands. He couldn’t look her in the eye; she makes him feel like a fifteen year old again instead of his actual age of 23.

 

“You’re clearly important to Hyukjae as well. And he trusts you, but as I see it, he can’t see through you like I do. To be honest, I think he’s a little afraid of you.”

 

Donghae scoffs, finally courageous enough to look at his mother. “Afraid—of me? As if.”

 

“What I mean is…” she emphasizes, taking the young man’s hand to her own. “That he’s afraid that you’re going to leave. Again. He seems very insecure around you. Does he know why you stopped being friends?”

 

Donghae furrows his eyebrows, a thoughtful wrinkle appearing to his forehead.

 

“No…”

 

“So if he’d done the same to you, how would you feel?”

 

Donghae blinks a few times. He never thought about it from Hyukjae’s point of view.

 

“I… That there was something wrong with me….”

 

“He probably thinks the same way, you know.” She pets Donghae’s hair, and smiles comfortingly when their gazes meet. “What if he never stopped questioning what he did wrong to cause your friendship to break apart? Be his friend. He wants you to be.”

 

Donghae stares outside through the window, seeing how it rains again.

 

She stands up, pecking the young man’s hair swiftly. “I’ve said this before, but I’ll said it again. Just give him a chance. Besides, you’re not kids anymore.” She gives him one last look, a rather meaningful one.

 

When she leaves the room to go back downstairs, Donghae’s left alone. He can’t believe his mother; like that, he doesn’t need to hide who he is anymore. She’s known all along, and he’s been stupid enough to delay and delay the talk that their son isn’t straight. Now that the cat is out of the bag, he’s able to breathe a little easier – but coming out of the closet has been the easy part. The hard part is letting himself to feel the things he felt.

 

And he starts to wonder, if he should tell Hyukjae the truth; the reason why he let their friendship wither away. His mother’s words doesn’t leave him alone either, and it’s the one thing that’s hard to grasp to. Hyukjae afraid of him leaving? Why? Why does he want him in his life, after all he’s done? He doesn’t want to go anywhere. No, if it’s up to him – but is it?

 

 

 

 

Hyukjae has wanted to nap for even a few minutes, but after lying down on the bed he hasn’t been able to shut his eyes. Jiah, the fight, the police, even his neighbors and the fact that his neighbor is actually one of the moms from the park, doesn’t leave him alone. He can’t stop the thoughts racing inside his head; the doubt if he’s ever going to be good enough for his daughter; if he could be any better than Jiah was. He can’t find the confidence to believe in himself, for the sake of the girl. The bile on his throat hasn’t left him, it’s still there, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

 

Frustrated, he finally jolts up from the bed, deciding to go see if Jaemin is awake. The image of his scared, crying bundle of daughter keeps haunting him. How could he ever make anything right?

 

Hyukjae walks down the stairs to the first floor, but it’s quiet. He’s only able to hear some distant noises that sounds like a tv. As he reaches the hall, and takes a look towards the spacious living room, he sees the open tv and the back of Donghae’s head on the other side of the couch. He walks up to him, taking a look around. The couch is light gray, set in the middle of the room in front of the tv that’s hanging from the wall between a row of bookshelves. On the right he sees the long windows, that show the scene of their terrace and the backyard. He notices the rain has finally stopped.

 

“Hey,” he grumbles with a tired voice. “Where’s everyone?” And by everyone, he means his daughter.

 

Donghae turns to look at Hyukjae, who’s face is still bruised and scratched up, but the worst swelling has already come down.

 

“Mom took her out for a while,” he answers, facing back to the tv, legs raised on top of the coffee table. Hyukjae can’t focus enough to figure out the show that’s running.

 

“Where?”

 

“Probably the park nearby,” Donghae notes.

 

Hyukjae goes around the couch, and lets himself fall down on it, next to Donghae.

 

“How was she?”

 

Donghae turns to look at his old friend for a moment. “Better when she woke up. Kept asking about you, but we told her you were a little tired. Mom got her occupied enough, so you could sleep.”

 

The older male doesn’t answer back. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest, staring at the tv numbly. Almost half an hour goes by before neither of them says another word, and all the while Donghae has tried to make himself to execute what his mother has suggested. Talking. Not a big word itself, but what it might unleash is a different thing.

 

“How… How are you?” he finally asks, shutting the tv down without asking Hyukjae’s opinion.

 

Hyukjae’s throat keeps burning as he stares at the blackened screen in front of them.

 

“What do you mean?” he rumbles. He can’t quite take in Donghae’s question. He doesn’t think Donghae wants to know.

 

“I… I’m just asking how you feel. After...what happened with Jiah,” Donghae replies, a little cautious of his words.

 

Hyukjae sighs, leaning more into the couch’s armrest. He takes a look of one of the bite marks on his arm. There’s so many thoughts, so many fears, emotions and questions he hasn’t let out before. There hasn’t been anyone to talk about any of them. Now Donghae is asking, but does he want to know? To know what keeps him up at night? How uncertain he is? About nothing and everything?

 

“I don’t know,” he starts, wavering. “I really don’t know.”

 

But Donghae waits.

 

Hyukjae takes a look at the brunet, swallowing. He takes the other’s patience as a sign to keep on talking.

 

“I… I didn’t think she could be that bad. When I didn’t allow her to see the kid, she went… Nuts. I didn’t think she’d go that far.” He takes a breath, collecting his thoughts, which are a mess. “I can’t stop thinking that what if she’d hurt the girl instead of me. And all that… Everything… How am I ever going to be good enough for the kid?”

 

Donghae sees how Hyukjae bites his lips tight, and it makes him do the same. But the last sentence surprises him a little. He didn’t think Hyukjae would second guess himself so much.

 

“I’ve never been so afraid for anyone before,” Hyukjae exhales, clenching his fist. “What if I mess everything up again? I don’t… I don’t want to lose her too. Everyone else’s… Already gone.”

 

The silence settles down again for ten minutes, until Donghae stands up. He stops next to Hyukjae, giving him a questioning look.

 

“Do you want a beer?”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you want a beer? I could have one, thought you might want one too.”

 

Hyukjae furrows his brows, as he stares at Donghae. It starts to hit him, that even Donghae is human. He’s not perfect, even he likes his beer and fast food and carbs and whatever the hell he wanted from time to time. And although Hyukjae used to party a lot, it doesn’t make him an alcoholic. He can very well handle his alcohol when he wants, it isn’t a problem. And for real, he could use one right now.

 

“Sure.”

 

Donghae has noticed how quiet Hyukjae has been after the incident. But as he ponders it further, he starts to realize it’s not just about Jiah. It’s been a rough week. Hyukjae’s life has turned upside down in a matter of days; he’s had to take responsibility over something he never thought he would. He’s been the only person in Hyukjae’s daily life during that time, and it seems what Hyukjae has said before is true. There is no one else in his life who he could turn to. He hasn’t seen friends asking how he is, not even a phone call.

 

Donghae grits his teeth, as he blames himself for acting so harsh towards him, and takes two bottles from the fridge. As he walks back into the living room, he hands a beer for Hyukjae and sits next to him.

 

“You’re not going to lose her,” he finally replies, and Hyukjae looks at him with glossy, doubtful eyes.

 

“Do you even believe what you say?” Hyukjae grunts.

 

“I mean it. You’re different with her,” Donghae says, searching for the next words, “You… Those bruises and scratches and that splint on your wrist tells a lot.” The bottle cap hisses as the younger opens his own.

 

They aren’t on the same wavelengths yet when it comes to talking.

 

“What I’m trying to say… You fought for her. You were protecting her. That’s what… What dad’s are supposed to do,” he explains, lowering his gaze onto his lap. He isn’t very good at making the other feel better, but he hopes his words would mean something.

 

It takes a moment before Hyukjae answers.

 

“You think?”

 

“I do. You’ll make mistakes… Like everyone else.”

 

It’s hard to believe Donghae would actually mean it. He has been so adamant about it being a huge mistake to begin with. Would he change his mind so easy?

 

Donghae watches Hyukjae, hearing the deep inhale and seeing that his attempt to make the other feel better didn’t take. Hyukjae fiddles the bottle, his eyes hauled on to it, and it’s like there’s a dark cloud glooming over him, making him doubt everything. It’s rare, seeing that side of Hyukjae. He’s gotten so used to the confident one, who didn’t care what others thought. But Hyukjae isn’t as tough as Donghae thought he is.

 

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” Hyukjae apologizes, staring at the unopened beer between his hands. “Into our life.”

 

“It’s...” Donghae tries to explain he doesn’t mind, but he doesn’t get a chance to continue.

 

“It was too much to ask for you. This has nothing to do with you. You have your own life, and now we’re just… Holding you back...”

 

Donghae’s rather taken aback by the ashamed tone, the fact it seems to bother Hyukjae. But it’s as if his mouth has been sewn shut, and he can’t make out a word to make Hyukjae think otherwise.

 

“I get it. You have your work, you’re trying to study… I’m in a different league with my daughter, my mistakes, my fucked up mess of a life I’m trying to put back together. I understand why you don’t want anything to do with us. And if everything hadn’t been so messy, I wouldn’t have asked you,” Hyukjae rambles.

 

The forlorn look in his eyes – the discouragement, the glimmer on top of them – it tugs on Donghae’s heart. And he has to admit he hates the look. He doesn’t want Hyukjae to feel this way.

 

“And to be honest…” Hyukjae starts, opening his bottle at last, and taking a small sip. “I kinda hoped we could be friends again. But if it’s not something you want, I get it. I totally get it. You probably had your reasons to ditch me in school, although I still don’t...” the older’s voice has lowered to a mere murmur, and it takes an effort to make out the words he’s saying.

 

“It just… It just nags me that I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

 

“Hyukjae, it’s not...” Donghae finally opens his mouth, collecting every bit of courage he has inside. But his gaze remains lowered to his tighs, and the other takes it the wrong way as Donghae doesn’t look him in the eye.

 

“You don’t need to explain,” Hyukjae grunts, “What the heck does it even matter now? I don’t need to know. I don’t want to know. We’re going on our separate ways sooner than later, so why bother.”

 

Hyukjae rises from the couch, eyebrows furrowed low, his lips in a thin line. His passive aggressiveness is driving Donghae crazy. With Donghae he’s always been like that, even back in the days. Hyukjae always had a temper, but somehow he never let himself be angry with Donghae. And for once, Donghae wishes he would let it out.

 

“Hey,” Donghae hollers, his voice a bit braver and stronger than before. “You’re not going to let me explain?”

 

“What is there to explain?” Hyukjae snarls for once, spreading his arms and shrugging. “I was obviously not enough for you. You had new, cooler friends. Isn’t that it? You got bored with me.”

 

Donghae makes a wry face. His heart is beating way too fast, and he can feel the cold crawling on his back. He’s still not ready to say it out loud. What if it’s worse for Hyukjae than he’s thought? If the truth’s too much compared to what Hyukjae thinks?

 

“It’s not what you think!” Donghae snaps. His ears are burning, his breathing louder. “I never thought that way.”

 

“Then what the hell happened?” Hyukjae snarls back.

 

“I was a coward! I was afraid what you’d think if I told you.”

 

“Told me what?”

 

Donghae clenches his fists, burying his fingernails into his palms.

 

“That I was in love with you.”

 

Hyukjae halts on his feet, wide-eyed.

 

“I didn’t want anyone to know that I was – am different, and you were my weakest link. So I pushed you away.”

 

Hyukjae lets himself fall back on the couch, a puzzled look dominating his face. His head goes entirely blank. Unable to produce a coherent thought, let alone a word to say, he puts the bottle of beer on the table. He doesn’t trust his hands to hold it.

 

Donghae waits – and waits, and waits, but the man doesn’t say a word. But he doesn’t look mad either, which allows him to stop holding his breath. Hyukjae is everything but angry, far from it, and if Donghae judges him right, he’s just entirely lost. Perplexed.

 

Minutes go by, and not another word is exchanged. The frontdoor makes a clang, and soon Jaemin rushes in, calling her father with a mig smile.

 

“Daddy!” She clambers herself on to the couch, and Hyukjae captures her to his embrace, hugging and making the girl giggle. The expression goes from a confused to a smiling one in a nanosecond. Yet, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes in full.

 

Donghae’s mother follows the girl, laughing and holding four boxes of pizza. But her eyebrow rises, when she senses the strange air around the two men.

 

“We got some food,” she mutters, exchanging looks from Donghae to Hyukjae. “I also told her we could watch a movie?”

 

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, it smells awesome,” Hyukjae mutters, letting the girl go from his arms to Donghae’s. Donghae doesn’t look at him, but Hyukjae sees something behind his excited appearances as he talks with the girl, debating about the movie.

 

Jaemin seems to have forgotten the incident, as they all get together to watch Kung Fu Panda (her choice, not theirs).

 

The only thing Hyukjae catches about the movie, is the fact that a goose raised up a pretty decent panda bear – and the fact that Donghae loves him. Or loved him? Has he put it behind him – or is it possible the feelings are still there? What the heck is he supposed to think?

 

When he gives Donghae an inadvertent look and sees him laughing with his daughter, the confusion turns in to a herd of pandas running wild down on his stomach. Donghae’s laugh, his smile, his features, the way he is – they all suddenly seem very different in his eyes.

 

 

 

“The end,” Donghae finishes reading the short bedtime story to Jaemin, and puts the book down on the coffee table, ruffling the dark mess of the girl’s hair.

 

But Hyukjae and Donghae have only shared a few words since their so called conversation. Hyukjae still has no idea what to think about it. How is he supposed to react to something like that, when he has no idea what goes inside his stupid head?

 

“Okay, it’s time to go to bed,” Hyukjae mutters from the other side of the couch, getting up and lifting the girl to his arms. Jaemin giggles, circling her arm around her father’s shoulder. “Have you washed you teeth?” he asks, and the girl nods.

 

Donghae smiles at them, brushing his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t look Hyukjae in the eye. His shoulders are stiff.

 

“Say good night to Donghae,” Hyukjae says, already on his way to the stairs.

 

“Good night!” Jaemin replies, waving her hand to the younger man.

 

Donghae’s smile widens for a second. “Good night.”

 

Their gazes lock for a moment, but Hyukjae’s unable to read, or even guess what the other’s thinking either.

 

 

 

With a sigh, he brings the girl with him to Donghae’s brother’s old room, putting her down on the queen sized bed. The room is bigger than Hyukjae’s living room, and it has probably been newly decorated after Dongwha has moved out. It’s simple and calming – the whole house is. Somehow, it still surprises how welcome he feels there. Donghae’s mother is so nice to him and his daughter, even after all those years and all the mess Hyukjae’s now brought to their life.

 

Sighing again, he grabs the girl’s packbag and her pyjamas, offering them to the girl. “Put these on, ok?” he requests, and the four year old nods. It’s actually the first time Hyukjae would sleep through the night with his daughter, despite the many naps they’ve already taken during the days, usually on the couch. Sauntering to the other side of the bed where he’s brought his own bag of change of clothes, he ends up changing his jeans to the more comfortable colleges.

 

As he turns around again, Jaemin’s changed hers and is already snuggling down under the fluffy blanket.

 

“Doggy?” she asks with wide eyes, pouting her lips.

 

“Oh,” Hyukjae realizes, eyeing and then crouching down to his bag again, where he remembered to put the plushie. He takes the gray dog, that reminds him of a husky, and passes the Doggy to her.

 

She smiles, hugging the husky lovingly. Hyukjae smiles back, ruffling his own hair. The earlier conversation with Donghae is still taking a big part of his attention. He still can’t grasp to it.

 

Sitting down to the bed next to the kid, leaning against the big pillow behind his back, he’s tired but the thought of falling a sleep isn’t at the top of his list. So many thoughts still ran wild inside his head, and he isn’t sure if he regrets pushing Donghae to tell the truth, or is he actually glad knowing.

 

He peeks a look at the girl whose eyes are already drooping, but somehow, something seems to keep her awake too. Hyukjae pets the plush dog on her arms, absent-minded, pondering another thought that fighting with Jiah has made him realize. Before moving in with him, Jaemin probably didn’t know what having a parent meant. How many times had Jiah acted like a caring, unconditionally loving mother? Never? He wants the girl to know that he cares. That she could actually rely on someone – trust someone.

 

“Kid… I know today was rough,” Hyukjae starts, though he doesn’t quite trust his voice. All the emotions the day brought to the surface, are still rather fresh and raw for him. “But I… I want you to know that I… That I love you. Okay?” The words burn down on his throat, and he has to bites his lips so he wouldn’t start to cry. But he means it. He knows it. He wouldn’t stop loving her, no matter how fucked up he is.

 

Hyukjae takes a look at the girl, who’s now snuggling against his side.

 

“Okay,” she says very, very softly, and Hyukjae circles his arm around her. He doesn’t expect her to answer. It feels it might be a bit soon, since she’s still trying to comprehend what the whole word means. Jiah most likely didn’t say it very often to her, and showed even less.

 

Hyukjae bites his lips harder, gazing to the ceiling as the tears try very hard to escape through his eyelids. For a while, they stay comfortably quiet. Jaemin’s breathing has gotten slower, but Hyukjae knows she’s not asleep yet. She keeps her eyes closed, and Hyukjae listens to Donghae’s voice looping inside his head, over and over again.

 

It’s the last thing he would’ve expected to hear. For all this time, he’s thought anything else but that. That he wasn’t cool enough, interesting enough, maybe they drifted apart, maybe he was too this and that, that he didn’t play soccer – but not that. He can’t understand it. How is it possible? He isn’t an easy person to love; there’s not much to love. Even the fact that it makes Donghae gay doesn’t bother him at all compared to the fact that someone could feel like that towards him.

 

And he has no doubt that Donghae has gotten over him. It has been so long. He couldn’t possibly still harbor those feelings, could he?

 

“Daddy…?”

 

Hyukjae hears a voice coming from his side, as Jaemin calls him, sleepy.

 

“What is it?” he asks, clearing his thoughts. He’s already put the lights off, and it’s dark in the room, but the street lights outside illuminate the girl’s features enough for him to see her. She gazes up to him, with puppy like, a bit shy eyes.

 

“Can… Can Donghae come?”

 

“Come… What?”

 

Jaemin’s sentences aren’t yet spot on, and she keeps stumbling, but Hyukjae’s glad she’s trying.

 

“Sleep. Here?” she goes on.

 

Hyukjae starts to understand what it is about. So far, Jaemin has gotten used to sleeping next to Donghae. It’s the first time without him, and she must miss it; the familiarity.

 

“With us?” Jaemin continues, as if trying to verify what she is trying to say. But Hyukjae gets it, loud and clear. It’s him who hesitates.

 

“I… I can ask if he wants to...” he mutters. If Donghae makes her feel more comfortable, he will. But after their talk, or rather, argument, or whatever the hell he should call it, he’s not sure if Donghae wants to. And it makes him feel a little selfish.

 

Jaemin’s face lightens up a little.

 

“I’ll go ask him, okay? Wait here,” he says, getting up from the bed. It’s closing to ten pm, and he doesn’t think the man is asleep yet either. But as he leaves the room and walks up to Donghae’s door that's left a little ajar, he stops. Biting his lips and scrathing the side of his neck, unsure, he ends ups knocking the door. Only because he promised to Jaemin.

 

At first, he doesn’t hear an answer, and he pokes the door a little, peeking inside. Donghae sits on an armchair beside his desk, reading with earbuds in his ears. He looks a little tense, and although it’s as if he should be reading a book, his eyes don’t move. He rather stares at the page, mind somewhere else. Hyukjae swallows, stepping forward.

 

“Donghae?” he calls him, and finally Donghae takes a note of the figure standing at his pheripheral vision. He lifts up his head, pulling the other earbud out of his ear.

 

“Hyukjae?” he asks back, a little taken aback. He has reading glasses over his nose, but he takes them off, placing them on the desk. “What is it?” His voice is smooth, yet surprised and a tad tired too.

 

Donghae doesn’t seem angry, at least. Hyukjae bites his lip between his teeth before he manages to get the question out in the air.

 

“Jaemin… She was… Asking for you,” Hyukjae mumbles, finding it difficult to find the right words. “I mean, she’s gotten used to sleeping with you...”

 

Donghae looks more surprised, but the expression is soft, a little abashed.

 

“Would it be, uhm, too much to ask for you to sleep with us?” Hyukjae grumbles, embarrassed.

 

“With you?” Donghae repeats.

 

“Mm.”

 

It takes a second, but then Donghae puts the book away and takes off the both earbuds, placing them with his phone on the table. As the brunet stands up, Hyukjae notes the gray tank top and the pyjama shorts, and he lets his eyes wander. How would a guy like Donghae have ever had the hots for him?

 

“Okay,” Donghae says, and Hyukjae wakes up from his stupor as Donghae now stands in front of him. He takes a short inhale, before he marches out of Donghae’s room.

 

Hyukjae’s tangled mess of a head makes it hard to think anything coherent. Silent, he leads them into their room, where Jaemin sits in the middle of the bed. A beaming smile rises to her lips.

 

“Donghaii!”

 

Hyukjae goes around the bed to his side, snorting.

 

“Now you’re saying it like that on purpose, aren’t you?” he teases, pulling the blanket over his lower body.

 

The girl giggles, hiding behind her plushie.

 

Hyukjae gazes back to Donghae, who slides on the other side of the bed with a toothy, curved smile.

 

“Happy now?” Donghae asks, tickling the girl’s arm.

 

She giggles again, and Hyukjae shakes his head in disbelief.

 

Donghae snuggles under the single blanket, lying down sideways. A soft hint of a smile still lingers up on his face, as he buries his arm under the pillow, leaning against it.

 

“Don’t steal all the blanket, Donghae,” Hyukjae murmurs as he finally slouches on his back, closing his eyes. The queen sized bed is a little tight for three people to fit, but he can manage. He’s been sleeping on his couch for a week, and this is definitely better than that. The clean sheets and the warmness are quickly making him feel sleepy. Somehow, he feels very comfortable, although there is a curious churn down on his stomach now. It almost feels as if they… He bits his tongue, throwing the thoughts out of his head.

 

“Okay, kiddo. Donghae’s here, time to sleep,” he rumbles, sighing.

 

“Good night daddy, good night Donghai,” the girl huffs, snuggling between them.


	17. Seventeen

. . seventeen . .

 

 

Hyukjae wakes up to a warm yet unfamiliar feeling all around him.

 

The sun shines straight to his face, forcing him to close his eyes for a moment. But before he opens his eyes again, it takes a minute for him to figure out where he’s spent the night. A yawn tries to escape his mouth, but right before letting it go, he snaps his mouth shut. The warmth – it isn’t because of the probably most comfortable blanket he’s ever slept with, but something else.

 

Slowly, he lets his eyes open, but the sun makes him squint. He lowers his eyes, trying not to move otherwise, as he follows the white blanket downwards. But he doesn’t see anything else but it. The feeling, the unfamiliar yet rather safe and comforting sensation, comes from under it. And as he starts to become more aware of his surroundings, what every sensation truly means, he notes the hot breaths against his neck, and silky hair tickling his nape. His head goes blank, as he peeks under the blanket, cautious, and it finally hits him that he didn’t go to sleep alone.

 

Hyukjae stares at the arm circled over his middle, and lets the blanket fall over it again. Unsure, he turns his head backwards, noting the dark tousle of hair behind him, soon followed with an overall realization what must have been going on for a while. His legs are rather numb, as one that doesn’t belong to him is sprawled over them. A very distinct scent, quite a manly one, reaches his nose and although it’s almost too warm around him, cold shivers run along his arms.

 

And the slow, sleepy wiring inside his head connects the dots. Donghae’s been spooning him god knows for how long, and it’s…

 

Oh god I’m enjoying this.

 

It’s impossible for him to close his eyes again although he desperately wants to. Knowing how good it feels makes his head spin faster. It has been a while since he’s slept with someone like that. It bothers him a little, not the fact itself, but the matter how it makes him feel inside. It confuses him to no end, and Donghae’s confession yesterday complicates it. Hyukjae still isn’t sure what he thinks about it. It doesn’t anger him, and actually he doesn’t find it wrong in any way. He’s never had anything against the people who happened to like the same gender. It’s no problem to him if Donghae’s gay, or whatever the other calls himself.

 

But it does, in a way, force Hyukjae to think about himself. In high school, before their quiet fallout, Donghae was his favorite person. He’s never questioned it. Donghae was his best friend, after all. But now that Donghae’s told him that he’s—well, used to be—in love with him, he wonders. For starters, does the man still feel the same? He certainly doubts it, but a part of Donghae’s behavior in the last week opposes it. If they drifted apart because of Donghae’s feelings, why is he still so withdrawn? Is it still the same, on purpose, because Donghae’s afraid of how he would act if he knew? And now that he knows, is Donghae afraid he would chase him away?

 

Hyukjae grimaces, the swirl of thoughts inside his head making him feel insane. It’s a lot to take in, and it’s not even all there is to it. And besides the remaining confusion, he has no idea how he feels.

 

And for some questionable reason, Hyukjae turns around, careful not to wake up the other quite yet. But as his face is suddenly just an inch apart from Donghae’s still asleep one, his breath hitches and his stomach turns around.

 

The younger man looks very different while asleep. He’s peaceful, still holding on to Hyukjae’s waist as his soft snuffles fill Hyukjae’s ears. Observing Donghae’s face, his heartbeat goes up to his ears. He tries to find something he might dislike, but there’s nothing. Nothing. Nothing about Donghae is repulsive to him. Hyukjae thinks and thinks, but even some of those women he’s slept with doesn’t really compare to Donghae’s looks. Why is it so damn easy to look at him?

 

He’s never really stopped to consider about it before, but now that he’s so close to another man, it doesn’t feel much different than with a woman. He might even enjoy the masculinity. He prefers Donghae’s scent over any of the flowery and candy like perfumes lots of the women he’s been with seemed to enjoy using.

 

It’s not easy to admit that it’s true. That he doesn’t want to get away from this; he doesn’t have the urge to jump off from the bed in disgust. He’s never been the judgy type, but this realization that he actually finds nothing in himself that dislikes being so close to Donghae baffles him.

 

When he keeps looking at the brunet, he can’t stop beating his brains out. Could it be possible for him to fall in love with a man? And when there’s no instant caveat coming from anywhere, not even a distant whisper, he takes a deep inhale and closes his eyes, counting to ten in his mind to calm his nerves.

 

It takes him another minute to think straight again.

 

God damn it, am I even straight?

 

Cursing under his breath, he finally takes note over the matter that his daughter is nowhere to be seen. But then he hears some noises coming from downstairs, and he realizes that she’s probably with Donghae’s mother, and Hyukjae lets out a short breath in relief. He doesn’t have the capacity to worry over so many things at the same time. In the end, he’s staring Donghae again. And he finds himself curious how Donghae will react when he finds himself in the current position with Hyukjae. The older bites down on his lips, but the name slips off his mouth.

 

“Donghae.”

 

The soft call doesn’t immediately boggle the younger up. At first, he just crunches his nose at the sound. But after a minute of waiting, still no sign of him waking up, Hyukjae lifts his hand to poke Donghae’s chest.

 

“Hey,” he tries again, “Donghae, come on.” Hyukjae forgets his hand to rest against the other’s chest, as Donghae finally opens his eyes.

 

At first, Donghae can’t orient to anything. But slowly, the face in front of his own starts to make sense, and his eyes widen in shock. Hyukjae’s palm tingles against his chest. He soon comes to find that he’s clinging to the other himself.

 

“Hyuk—fuck, I’m sorry,” Donghae swallows, “I didn’t—“

 

Hyukjae notices the mix of terrified and embarrassed expression, and he clasps his fingers around the younger’s shirt he’s been touching.

 

“Stop,” Hyukjae hisses, but his voice is not angry. Rather, he snorts. The terrified look on Donghae’s face calms down a notch.

 

“I’m just glad I didn’t wake up to a morning wood against my ass,” he continues, smirking smugly at the other.

 

“Not helping!” Donghae shuts his eyes as his face rushes red from embarrasment, but for some reason, he doesn’t realize he’s still holding onto Hyukjae with his hand.

 

Hyukjae snickers, trying to hold his laugh. Eventually Donghae dares to look at him again, biting his lips. Now, he seems hesitant, and a little fearful.

 

“You’re… You’re not mad?”

 

Hyukjae frowns. “About?”

 

“Yesterday… When I...”

 

“No.”

 

Donghae looks confused.

 

“W-why?”

 

“Should I be?”

 

“N-no,” Donghae stammers, “I mean, I don’t know. I was just afraid you might… That I might...”

 

“Disgust me?” Hyukjae stares back to him. “You don’t. There’s nothing about you that I find disgusting, Donghae.” And there’s a silence, and Donghae keeps looking at him, confused and timid, and as if he isn’t quite sure if he should trust what Hyukjae says, even if the words were so surprisingly soft.

 

And Hyukjae knows he should look away, but he can’t. The eye contact holds, until a squeal suddenly fills the room and an energetic bundle crawls up behind Donghae, breaking the gaze and Hyukjae’s thoughts that might have gone to ponder the reason what the younger really saw in him and why he feels curious about how Donghae’s lips might feel against his own.

 

 

 

People come and go around the station, talking, asking questions from the info desk, a man waits for the coffee machine to pour him a cup of bitter coffee, a mother tries to calm down a crying baby and an old man, probably homeless, dozes off on his seat across the room.

 

Hyukjae’s leg trembles against the floor as he eyes the clock, then a plastic plant beside the woman at the info desk and then the floor again. Donghae sits beside him on the bench, the four year old seated between them. He doesn’t know what to think, he doesn’t want to think, but everything is stuck inside his head. Why is it so hard to calm down? He’s done nothing wrong, he’s only there to give the police a statement about the incident with Jiah, but he can’t calm down the tornado inside him.

 

“Hyukjae,” Donghae suddenly mutters, “Stop tapping the floor.”

 

“Sorry,” he gives the younger a grimace, as he follows a police officer passing by with his nervous stare. “Not a lot of good memories from here.”

 

Donghae purses his lips. “It’s just a formality, don’t stress it. Just tell them what happened.”

 

Hyukjae slides his fingers through his ash brown hair, sighing.

 

“I know, I know,” he exhales. He takes a swift look at his daughter, but Jaemin doesn’t seem disturbed about anything. She’s still occupied with the picture book Donghae’s mother had given her. She doesn’t worry, she’s just encrossed in her own simple world, and Hyukjae envies it.

 

It’s nearing one in the afternoon, and they’ve been waiting for almost half an hour already. And after waking up from next to Donghae about three hours earlier, not much has happened. They didn’t really get a chance to talk more after Jaemin crashed their moment. He’s not even sure if they’re still fine with each other after the confession, although Donghae hasn’t given a good reason to think otherwise, even if he’s been a little sheepish around Hyukjae till now. When they’d gone to eat breakfast, Donghae had reminded him about the fact that he needed to talk with the police again. And since then, he hasn’t been really capable of thinking of anything else.

 

But as the endless waiting is starting to get to his nerves, bad time, he just wants something to turn his attention to, and the first subject he can think of is the damned confession. But he couldn’t just ask Donghae if he’s still in love with him, could he?

 

“Donghae?” he finds himself calling the other.

 

Donghae turns to give him a look, and Hyukjae bites his tongue. The brunet’s dressed like any other day, tight blue jeans and a dark collared shirt, with a black trench coat on his lap. His hair is falling freely over his forehead.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are we...” Hyukjae mutters, “Are we good?”

 

“What do you mean?” Donghae replies, lowering his gaze to the girl, to distract himself.

 

“I mean...” Hyukjae stops for a moment as an officer passes them, “After everything? Are we cool? There’s no bad vibes between us?”

 

Donghae rises his gaze back to the older, and they stare each other for a while.

 

“I guess it’s up to you?” Donghae mutters, looking away again.

 

“Up to me? I have no beef with you,” he grunts, “But do you?” He quirks his eyebrow, as if waiting for a hint about Donghae’s feelings. But he doesn’t give him a clue.

 

“I’m fine,” Donghae says nonchalantly, and Hyukjae doesn’t get a chance to ask for more, when one of the police officers that took Jiah away suddenly calls his name.

 

 

 

 

They’ve been over the story twice. The officer has asked him almost everything about their current situation, and Hyukjae feels exhausted by all of it. He just wants to get away from there already. Yet the officer keeps thinking something, palming his jaw.

 

“I think we’re about done here,” he finally says, and Hyukjae sighs in relief, but the officer, whose name tag reads Kim, continues, “There’s just that whether you want to file a criminal report. This goes somewhere under petty assault.”

 

His head goes blank. At first, it seemed the obvious thing to do. But if he files the report, would Jiah take vengeance on it? Would it she come back later, and do something even worse in her fury?

 

“What’s she going to get?” he stammers, staring at the officer.

 

“Probation, community service… Depends on the judge. Although she managed to harm you physically, the injuries were rather minor. But you also told about her leaving the child alone behind your door, which would be seen as child neglect.”

 

He has to think about the girl, but he doesn’t know what’s the wisest thing to do. He would really appreciate Donghae’s say on this, but he stayed back at the lobby with the girl. But what would Donghae do?

 

“Uh… I guess I file the report,” he finally says, although he’s still unsure. The officer nods, typing something on his computer.

 

The officer clears his throat. “If this happens again, you should probably file the restraining order.”

 

Hyukjae doesn’t answer.

 

“And...” the officer suddenly continues, and Hyukjae straightens on his chair. “A social worker will probably pay you a visit sometime, due to the circumstances.”

 

Hyukjae gulps. “What… What does that mean?”

 

“They’ll just check if everything’s alright. It’s just a procedure, since the child’s living conditions have drastically changed and the mother, who’s usually the main caretaker, is unable to take care of the child. Since you’re not married and the custody of the child is still the mother’s.”

 

“Okay,” he dumbly replies, staring at the officer.

 

“I think that’s everything. You’re free to go now.”

 

As he exits back to the lobby, the relief starts blending up with a new matter to worry about. Donghae stands up as he sees the father returning, but the blank look on the other’s face makes him frown.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Hyukjae gives him a side-eye, as he lifts Jaemin up to his arms, unconsciously craving for some comfort.

 

“Uh, nothing, really,” he mumbles, “Let’s just go home.”

 

 

 

 

When Hyukjae steps out of the elevator on his floor after Donghae and Jaemin, his thoughts are still swirling uncontrollably inside his head. But as he reaches for the keys from his pocket, the door across the hall opens, and Saeun steps out. She notices them immediately, shifting her purse on her shoulder as she closes the door and hollers after them.

 

“Hey, Hyukjae!”

 

Hyukjae turns around, seeing the smile on the woman’s face.

 

“Hi,” she greets, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I hoped I’d stumble to you guys.”

 

“Oh?” Hyukjae replies, giving a look to Donghae.

 

“I was just thinking that we could bring the kids to the park sometime? It would be nice to the kids to get friendly, as Jaemin’s about the same age as ours. Do you have any plans for today? I’m on my way to the store, but later?” she asks with bright eyes, seemingly happy.

 

“Uh,” Hyukjae looks at the man and the girl on his side. “That’s a great idea, actually.” He knows it would be good for Jaemin to actually socialize with other kids. But he knows Donghae has to go to work later in the evening, and Hyukjae himself feels rather beat from the trip to the police station.

 

“Maybe tomorrow?” Donghae cuts in, tilting his head. “I have work tonight, but we could come tomorrow?”

 

“Of course!” Saeun beams, “That’d be great. How about in the afternoon, around eleven?”

 

“Sure,” Donghae nods, turning to give a look to Hyukjae. “That’s okay, right?”

 

Hyukjae looks a little stunned, but he doesn’t have anything against it. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“So that’s a date,” Saeun beams, but then she purses her lips, thoughtful. “How are you, by the way?”

 

Hyukjae’s skin around his eye is still a mix of colors, but it’s not swollen anymore. He feels a bit taken aback by Saeun’s question; she seems so sincere about everything, and Hyukjae’s truly grateful about the help she and her husband offered.

 

“Well, alright, I think. She’s not going to bother us for a while, at least...” he mutters, shifting on his feet, not noticing the lip biting as Donghae watches him.

 

“I’m glad,” she says with a gentle smile. “Anyway, we’ll be seeing you tomorrow. I must be going,” she continues, and with a wave of her hand she leaves down the stairs.

 

Jaemin eyes her father with curiosity, as the man fiddles the keys before opening their door.

 

“She seems really nice,” Donghae mumbles but a smirk rises to his lips soon, after a thought. “And you were afraid of her.”

 

Hyukjae rolls his eyes.

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

 

 

 

It’s been hours since Donghae left for work, and Hyukjae’s alone with the girl again. The day has gone by so fast, and it’s already nearing bedtime. But as the father watches the girl playing happily with the Legos on the living room floor, there’s not much for him left but the thoughts that are once again occupying his head. The upcoming visit of the social worker has already managed to freak him out, but he doesn’t want to think about it. There isn’t anything he could really do about it, and the worst fear is just the fact that he’s scared that they’d come up with a reason to take the girl away from him. But would they? Isn’t it better that she’s with him, now that Jiah is out of the question?

 

Cold shivers run along his back, and Hyukjae shakes his head to force the worries out of his head. He needs to think about something else. And with that, the morning comes rushing back. The feeling of waking up next to someone. The earth shattering realization that he liked it.

 

Hyukjae’s never thought about it before. He’s always been attracted to women, mostly. But now, Donghae’s very unexpected confession has turned his world around. It forces him to think about the fact, that there is another option. But is it an option for him? Why does it even matter to him? He doesn’t deny the fact that he finds some men attractive, but could he ever be with one? The way Donghae wants to? To have an actual relationship?

 

And he wonders, but the only male face he keeps seeing is Donghae’s. He hasn’t really noticed it before, but he is handsome. The way Donghae’s body felt against his that morning surprised him. And he actually thought about kissing him. Well, how it might feel. He’s become curious about it, and the fact that Donghae had some feelings towards him just splashes more fuel to the fire.

 

Yes, Donghae has a way of being annoying, but most of all, there isn’t a lot he doesn’t like about him. But how much is that? Does he like in a normal, friendly way, or could there be more to it?

 

Hyukjae groans as he can’t stop thinking about it. Has Donghae really managed to make him question his sexuality at this point of his life? And what the hell is he to do about it? Donghae might not even feel the same way anymore. And what if Donghae had told him all the years ago? Would it had made a difference? He might have always been a little bi-curious, at least, as he thinks it further and further.

 

But when he looks at Donghae, it’s not exactly the same as when he used to look at the women in the bars, searching for a one night stand. A pretty face and a fiery attitude was enough. Donghae’s quite the opposite, but he has never looked at him with that certain thought in his mind. There hasn’t been an ulterior motive. With women, he always had one. It was fun, it was easy—he didn’t even want anything more.

 

He hasn’t even had a serious relationship in years. What he had with Jiah… Was it even a real relationship to begin with? They were mostly fooling around. Maybe the correct label would’ve been friends with benefits. And he realizes, he’s never had a relationship with someone he actually loved.

 

It hits him, like a big ass brick.

 

I… I’ve never been in love.

 

 

 

 

Hyukjae hears the front door being shut when he checks the time from his phone. It’s past midnight, and Jaemin’s been asleep beside him for hours, but he hasn’t been able to shut his own eyes for a minute. He listens how Donghae puts his jacket away. He hears a yawn, and the bag being put down on the floor.

 

He didn’t think much about it when he went to sleep with the girl. He just knew she wouldn’t stay put alone, so he stayed, and since then he’s mostly been staring at the ceiling.

 

It takes a few minutes until the door opens quietly. Hyukjae turns around to say something to the younger, but the words get stuck on his tongue when he sees Donghae buttoning down his shirt, about to change into his usual Iron Man t-shirt he usually wears to bed. He can’t turn his gaze away, when a slice of the man’s bare chest meets his sight. And it’s the moment when Donghae finally notices him. The man jolts in frighten, so used to Hyukjae sleeping on the couch.

 

“Couldn’t say anything?” Donghae whispers, glowering.

 

Hyukjae shrugs with a half-smirk. “Too lazy.”

 

Donghae huffs and turns around, taking the shirt off his back and throwing it over his bag of clothes. “You want me to go sleep on the couch?” he mutters, keeping his voice down although he knows the girl is a heavy sleeper and she wouldn’t wake up from mere talking.

 

It takes a minute for Hyukjae to answer because his eyes are too busy observing Donghae’s back. He hasn’t seen him without any clothes covering his body, at least since high school. And the sight has changed quite a bit. Donghae’s toned, but not overly so. But his mind stops wandering when the younger puts on the red t-shirt.

 

“Hey?” Donghae questions as Hyukjae doesn’t answer.

 

Hyukjae rises up against his elbows. “Nah.”

 

Donghae eyes the other, as if waiting for him to get up and leave for the couch himself.

 

“If you don’t mind me staying?” Hyukjae continues, gazing up to Donghae. The mattress is big enough for three, but as Jaemin slept on the far right, Donghae would have to sleep next to him again. “I’m not really keen on the couch either.”

 

Donghae doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts taking off his jeans, changing into his colleges. This time, Hyukjae doesn’t dare to watch. He takes his phone from under the pillow, absent-mindedly browsing through some news sites as Donghae goes to brush his teeth.

 

He comes back soon, slipping under the other blanket. At least there’s two of them now. Hyukjae doesn’t put his phone away quite yet, as he fights against the urge to ask Donghae something. With a side-eye, he notes Donghae lying on his back, an arm tucked under his head.

 

Suddenly, Donghae opens his mouth. “I might spoon you again, I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m asleep.”

 

Hyukjae snorts. “Well, I survived it the first time, didn’t I?”

 

Donghae humms.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Hyukjae utters soon, placing the phone back under his pillow. He has too many questions, and he just wants to get rid off at least one.

 

“What?” Donghae rumbles, without giving him any kind of physical attention.

 

“Are you gay or…?” Hyukjae wants to slap himself. He just hopes it doesn’t sound offensive, because that’s not what he’s trying to do.

 

A minute or two passes, before Donghae finally turns to look at him with a frown.

 

“Why?”

 

Hyukjae shrugs. “Just curious.”

 

“Yeah—I am. Does it bother you?”

 

“No.”

 

There’s a bit unbelieving look on Donghae’s face, as his eyebrows furrow even lower and he bites his lips.

 

Hyukjae stares back at him, another question on top of his mind, but he doesn’t dare to ask it.

 

Donghae can’t do anything but wonder why the other isn’t giving him any kind of response after his confession. He isn’t angry, he doesn’t seem to mind—so what the hell is the other thinking at all? Hyukjae’s been more quiet, lost in his own thoughts for almost two days, and Donghae just can’t figure him out. Hyukjae’s not in a rush to get him out of his life either. But he doesn’t have the courage to start a conversation about it again. He’s afraid that Hyukjae would start thinking otherwise if he realizes that Donghae’s feelings hasn’t changed. After all that they’ve gone through, and seeing Hyukjae change day by day, he might just be falling even harder for him.

 

And as Hyukjae falls asleep before him, he looks at the man and the daughter, feeling a bile on his throat as he thinks about the fact that Hyukjae wouldn’t really need his help much longer. How could he ever let the two go, as he’s already so deeply attached to them both...?


	18. Eighteen

. . eighteen . .

 

 

The next day they enter the playground a little past eleven. Saeun immediately turns towards them, the previous conversation with her friends long forgotten as the excitement gets the better of her.

 

“I’m so glad you came!” she says, standing up and throwing her palms together.

 

Hyukjae halts next to the bench, hands tucked into his black bomber jacket’s pockets. Donghae stays right next to him, but he crouches down to pull up Jaemin’s jacket zipper properly.

 

“Sorry we’re a little late,” Donghae mutters as he stands back up, giving a side-eye to Hyukjae. “These two are impossibly slow to get going.”

 

Chuckling, Saeun takes a look around the playground, looking for her offspring before she hollers, “Hey kids! Come over here, I want to introduce you.”

 

A boy in green overalls raises his head, leaving his play truck in the sandbox, and a slightly taller girl with red cheeks follows soon after him.

 

Hyukjae watches the kids running for their mother, and stopping right next to their mother’s legs. The woman bends down on their level.

 

“Guys, this is Jaemin, she’s our neighbor,” she starts, turning her face towards Jaemin and the two men now. “This is Jun,” she taps her son’s shoulder, then her daughter, “And this is Minji. Jun is Jaemin’s age and Minji is five. Say hello to Jaemin, ok?” The kids shyly reply a ‘hello’ to Hyukjae’s daughter, who steps back against Donghae’s legs.

 

A soft smile lingers to Hyukjae’s lips, as he bends to encourage her. He knows she’s even shyer than Saeun’s children, and would need some reassurance.

 

“Jaemin?” he calls gently, looking the kid in the eye. “You can go play with Jun and Minji, ok? You can have some some fun.” He notices how Minji purses her lips in thought, before she takes a step towards Jaemin. Jaemin watches her from under her little frown, until Minji offers her hand to her.

 

“Come play with us? We can make a sandcastle together!” the older girl suggest, smiling.

 

Jaemin gives her father another, questioning look. She contemplates the matter, until Hyukjae nods with a smile.

 

“Go on,” he assures her, and she finally gives her hand to the other girl, following her to the sandbox.

 

With a relieved exhale, Hyukjae stands straight.

 

It takes a minute, but as Minji offers a yellow bucket for Jaemin to fill, the girl finally kneels down on the sand, and starts filling the bucket alongside her new friends.

 

“She’s so cute… I hope they become friends, it’s so much easier when there’s someone other than me having to entertain them,” Saeun says with a laugh.

 

“She’s a little shy. I don’t think she’s had friends before,” Hyukjae mutters back, finally relaxing enough to sit on the other bench, but the women on the other keep looking at them curiously, as Donghae sits next to him with a sigh, leaning his elbows against his thighs as they watch the kids play.

 

“Well, she has now, if it’s up to me,” Saeun grins.

 

Hyukjae realizes he’s been worrying over nothing. Saeun’s kids immediately take Jaemin into their circle as if they’ve always been friends. Jaemin is still not talking much, but at least she’s participating. It’s just a matter of time, before she’ll start babbling like no other. And having friends will definitely help with that.

 

“And now that the kids are gone, I can introduce you to the ladies here,” Saeun smirks, waving towards the same women Hyukjae remembers seeing there before as well. “So Hyukjae doesn’t need to be afraid of us anymore.”

 

Donghae snorts.

 

“Oh please,” Hyukjae groans, his cheeks warming up. “Would you stop reminding me about that?”

 

Saeun grins with a playful gleam in her eyes. She introduces the women, but the names go a little over Hyukjae’s head; as if he would remember them the next day. But he learns that the oldest of them, the one he knows as curls due to her hair, is actually Dabin. The one around Hyukjae’s age and whose face is always on full war paint, is Chaerin. The one with the kid always sleeping in the prams, is called Kiran, and Hyukjae comes to understand that she’s always there because the baby sleeps best outside, therefore giving the mother a long awaited moment of peace.

 

His neighbor continues, and despite the first impression she got about her (she was the one always reading a book), she really loves to talk.

 

“It happens we’re actually neighbors! We live in the same building, and the same floor!” Saeun’s hands go all over as she talks expressively, “So meet Hyukjae and Donghae, Jaemin’s dads from across the hall.”

 

Hyukjae’s head goes blank, and he can almost sense how Donghae’s body goes extremely rigid beside him.

 

Dads…?

 

Did she just…?

 

But the women on the next bench suddenly all go ‘ohhh’, and Saeun’s smile widens.

 

She thinks we’re… Hyukjae mulls, A couple?

 

“He’s your boyfriend?” Chaerin exclaims, stunned.

 

“Aww, that’s so cute!” Kiran replies in delight, looking at the two men with wide, excited eyes.

 

Dabin continues right away, but the words are too much for Hyukjae to comprehend.

 

He doesn’t have time to say anything back to them; the women are obviously too excited and about to swoon over the “fact”. Hyukjae’s stomach starts churning uncontrollably. Saeun has met them twice, and they’ve never even done anything that would implicate that they are a couple. But she has said it so confidently, that she really must think so. Did they really look like that to others? Did they really look like a couple?

 

Saeun notices the surprised look on Hyukjae’s face.

 

“Oh no, did you want to keep it a secret?” she gasps, a little apologetic, her hand going to cover her mouth in embarrasment, “They are totally fine with it, though,” she points towards the others.

 

Hyukjae stares at her for a minute, but he ends up snorting and letting out a laugh.

 

“It’s fine,” he says without thinking, and Donghae pokes his side with his elbow.

 

“Hyukjae!” the brunet hisses, his ears flaming red.

 

Donghae glowers at him, unbelieving that Hyukjae would go with it. But Hyukjae gives him a grin instead, against everything he would’ve thought. Hyukjae bites his tongue, the grin growing wider as his almond eyes gleam at him, playful. Donghae swallows as their gazes lock, his heart’s beat going erratic. What the heck is the other thinking? Why wouldn’t he deny the false accusation while he still had the chance?

 

Donghae grits his teeth as he clasps his fingers around Hyukjae's sleeve. The anger is building up on his throat, as Hyukjae's behavior doesn't make any sense to him. Why is he doing this? Why doesn't he correct them? He stares at Hyukjae, as if waiting for an explanation, but it seems as if Hyukjae finds the whole thing amusing.

 

Hyukjae gazes down on Donghae's hand, and suddenly he's not really sure what he's doing when he pulls his hand off from Donghae's grasp—only to put their hands back together as he slips his fingers through Donghae's. He lifts his eyes back up to meet the younger's confused expression. Donghae's palm is a little cold to touch, but everything else about it ends up warming him inside.

 

At first, Donghae's obviously hesitant to hold his hand, as he keeps clenching his jaw, about to nag. But Hyukjae gives him a slight squeeze and the younger starts slowly relaxing into it. Hyukjae hears how the brunet lets out a wavering breath, causing his insides to palpate, and his stomach to swirl. Is it supposed to feel like that?

 

And when Donghae allows himself to finally look at him, Hyukjae flashes him a little nervous, apologetic kind of a smile. He can't help himself. The thoughts that have been daunting him before are starting to dissolve, and the uncertainty about his feelings are finally settling piece by piece. It's not what he thought it would feel like.

 

The warmth that spreads along his body every time when he's around Donghae is suddenly making more sense.

 

He feels something for the man. The emotions are not loud and clear like thunder, but something fragile, yet constantly growing inside him, settling slowly on place like thousand pieces of a puzzle.

 

"What are you doing?" Donghae hisses, his voice barely a whisper.

 

"Holding your hand?"

 

"W-why?"

 

"Because I... I wanted to," he whispers back, trying not to give the women a reason to get their attention back to them. He's glad that they have already found another subject to talk about. "You’re supposed to be my boyfriend, after all." It’s also supposed to be a joke, as he gives the other a smirk – but saying it out loud makes it feel nothing like a joke.

 

Donghae bits his lips, when Hyukjae brushes over the younger's thumb with his own.

 

What is he trying to do? Why is he like this? Why would he let his neighbor think that they are a couple?

 

For some reason, Donghae can’t find any words to say. His heart rate is going up to the roof, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. He lets Hyukjae hold his hand, despite the turmoil and the desire to curse at him. But he doesn’t.

 

Why did Saeun think so in the first place? They've done nothing to indicate that. But as he thinks it further, he has to admit that they have certain chemistry. Even if it's been a long time, they're no strangers to each other. They were close once. They might be tip-toeing around each other because they’re still not exactly friends, yet their interaction has always been somewhat domestic. And they are living together, as of now. Donghae realizes that when Jiah attacked Hyukjae, he didn’t think twice what he was doing. The worry over the other was evident that day, and it wasn’t something he could’ve hid well. He hadn’t thought how his actions would have seemed in other people’s eyes, and in that moment, the love he felt for Hyukjae probably shone through his worry.

 

But he is a little irritated how Hyukjae took Saeun’s words so lightly, but he can’t help but wonder how it would be if those words were actually true. If they really could be Jaemin’s parents together; if Jaemin would see him as his other father; and if Hyukjae would be his boyfriend.

 

And to think about it, what's really been going on Hyukjae's head since his confession? Nothing he's done during the past few days has indicated that he has a problem towards Donghae's sexuality. Hyukjae has, as a matter of fact, been acting quite opposite to it, although a bit strangely. He doesn’t really share anything – and he’s usually the straightforward one that doesn’t have any filters. He just says what comes first to mind, but now, he hasn’t acted like that. It’s as if he’s pondering every word before he says it. And the look in his eyes is different; there’s a new layer in the almond eyes, and constantly some wonder in them. It feels like the other is always watching him, trying to figure something out.

 

Donghae isn’t confident enough to think that his confession would’ve really impacted Hyukjae, but he’s slowly starting to think if he might be wrong about that. Is it possible that Hyukjae is looking at him differently because he knows Donghae had feelings for him? How did it actually make him feel?

 

Should he bury his fears, and ask what’s going in his stupid head, even if it might hurt? What if there is a chance that Hyukjae isn’t as straight as Donghae thinks he is? Because of how Hyukjae’s been acting lately, let alone the fact that he’s still holding his hand, it would be a lie to think that nothing has changed between them. There is a distinguishable transformation in the air, and Donghae finds himself desperate for the truth.

 

 

 

 

An hour later, when Jaemin is beat from the sandbox plays in the outdoors – causing Hyukjae to carry her all the way home – they finally reach his apartment.

 

During the past hour, they haven’t talked much. They are both feeling the after effects of Saeun’s wrong guess about their relationship status, but Donghae’s having none of it. He helps the yawning girl to take off her outer clothes, before she stumbles towards the living room, climbing on the couch as if she would really have any energy left to watch tv. But the brunet lets her do as she wishes; she’s probably going to fall asleep before she knows it. And it’s just what he wants, because he needs to talk with the father.

 

He takes off his jacket, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he dithers about it, building up the strength for the conversation. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say, but when he sees Hyukjae starting to march after the girl, he grabs the guy’s shirt, stopping him.

 

“Wait.”

 

Hyukjae raises his eyebrow, halting a few steps away from Donghae, but he takes one back as he sees the wavering expression on the younger’s face. He knows he should’ve seen it coming; that Donghae probably didn’t take his ‘joke’ so well. But he sees the look on his face, and he’s suddenly not so sure anymore. Hyukjae eyes the fingers around his shirt, and the younger takes a deep inhale.

 

“What was that?” Donghae starts with a low, a bit shaky tone.

 

“What was?” Hyukjae retorts, looking the other straight in the eye even if he knows exactly what Donghae means.

 

“You know what I’m talking about.”

 

He stares the other deep in the eyes, and he can’t help but feel a little threatened under Donghae’s dark watch. It’s not that he’s angry; maybe a little irritated, yes, but it’s mostly something else. It’s almost electric.

 

Hyukjae opens his mouth, but he ends up biting his tongue.

 

“It’s… It was just a joke, okay?” he blabbers, yet he doesn’t even believe himself.

 

“A joke,” Donghae repeats.

 

“I wasn’t trying to—,” Hyukjae swallows, his heartbeat getting louder every passing second, “I don’t know why I—”

 

“Why did you go with it?”

 

“I...” Hyukjae’s head is blank, because he doesn’t find any right words. He isn’t exactly lying, but it’s not what he really thinks about it. Donghae has managed to make him feel so insecure again, and it’s blocking him.

 

The younger’s eyes are hypnotizing; he can’t remember seeing the exact look before, and it’s messing up with all the remaining sense he still has left.

 

“Hyukjae,” Donghae demands, pushing the other against the hallway wall with his mere attitude. “Talk to me. I need to know what you’re thinking! I’m tired of guessing and trying to figure you out. You say you’re fine with the way I feel, but are you really? Just tell me damn truth. I need your honesty.”

 

There’s a mixed glimmer in Donghae’s eyes blended with concern and a tint of unsaid hope.

 

Hyukjae opens and shuts his mouth a few times, before the words just fall of his mouth without filters.

 

“Before you said you loved me... I’ve never questioned anything. I didn’t need to,” he says the things that first come to his mind, and he doesn’t think any of the possible consequences.

 

“But now everything’s different; I have Jaemin and I can’t live my life the way I used to. Everything’s upside down and you’re just adding more and more questions into my head. You’re in my life, against all the odds, and I… It’s better because of you,” Hyukjae pauses for a moment, swallowing despite the fact that his mouth feels dry and his insides are swirling more than ever before. “I have nothing against who you are. But I can’t stop thinking about what you said.”

 

Donghae’s eyebrow rises as he holds his breath.

 

“That you loved me,” Hyukjae’s voice wavers, “I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking why and how that’s even possible. I can’t stop thinking if you still feel the same.”

 

Donghae’s breath hitches. His clasp on Hyukjae’s sleeve lightens at the same time his insides tighten up to a tangle of emotions. He lets his hand fall, but he ends up crossing his arms over his chest, as fear creeps up his neck. He can’t make out what the tone Hyukjae speaks with really means.

 

“I’ve never...” The words lost their way for a moment, and Hyukjae leans more against the wall in confused agony, as if his legs are losing the strength to keep him standing. “I’ve never really been in love. I don’t know how that really feels, and now you’re suddenly making me feel a lot of things I’ve never felt before.” Hyukjae’s eyes finally focus to take a look how Donghae’s responding to his outpour, and as he slides his fingers through his mess of a hair, realizing how out of breath he is, Donghae’s expression takes his last breath away.

 

Donghae’s stunned by Hyukjae’s words, but most of all, he’s finally letting his feelings show through his eyes, and Hyukjae can see the softness covering the long hidden truth. His eyes are glazed with timid desire for Hyukjae to feel more, and it gives the older a push he’s secretly wanted.

 

Hyukjae admits to himself that all the thinking, the hurricane of questions that Donghae ignited, have not come from thin air. Donghae’s the only one that has ever made him look inward, to search for meaning. All of his past relationships, and the lack of anything real, have never caused him to do that. Before, he’s just been looking for fun, something to make him forget his mistakes. They’ve all been merely bandages to him. With Donghae, he feels; Donghae makes him feel emotions that have been buried somewhere deep within.

 

And the matter that he’s been most afraid of the last few days, the reason he hasn’t been able to talk about the talk, is because he’s been afraid that Donghae wouldn’t want him like that anymore. He doesn’t want to have feelings that could crush him in the end.

 

It’s unclear if he felt anything like this during high school. But he’s sure, that even then Donghae was the person he cared about the most.

 

There hasn’t been a person before who would’ve given him the desire to change for better. He’s never had anyone who doesn’t make him feel like the loneliest person in the world. And it scares him, it all freaks him out – bad time – but he knows he’s starting to fall in love with him. It isn’t a clear rush of realization, he’s still not one hundred percent sure about anything, but he thinks the winding road would take him there eventually if he allows it to happen.

 

With an inhale, he gives the next words some thought before he lets them out, and it’s a mess of hesitation and relief, and all things beyond.

 

“I don’t mind you being close to me, because I want you there. I don’t mind waking up next to you, because I want to fall asleep beside you. And it scraes me, because I’m afraid you don’t feel the same anymore. I don’t make any sense, do I? But I feel something. You make me feel something that makes me want to know how…” he hesitates what’s coming next, but he’s already at a point where it’s impossible to stop.

 

“How your lips would feel against mine, because I already know I like how holding your hand makes me feel.”

 

Donghae’s trying to take in everything he just heard, the words still trying to find their place in his head. And all the things he’s understood so far, makes his body feel lightweight. He feels like he could burst from all the emotions that are racing inside, yet he ends up slipping through the one thing he thought he’d want to hold onto. But he doesn’t want to hold onto it longer.

 

“Hyukjae… I still feel the same.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m still in love with you. Nothing’s changed,” Donghae bites down on his lips, sneaking a glance of the other from under his fringe. It probably doesn’t make things any easier, because they’re already all over the place. Hyukjae’s outburst is only causing him to fall harder for him. It’s the sweetest thing he’s ever heard before, and it’s so pure and honest that it’s difficult to comprehend that it’s really Hyukjae telling him all those things.


	19. Nineteen

. . nineteen . .

 

 

Donghae can’t take his eyes off of Hyukjae. The words hover in the air and in the back of his head like a heavy cover of dust, making it hard to breathe. He is still afraid what it would uncover; if something would happen; if in despite to everything, Hyukjae isn’t ready to accept his love for him even if the expression on Hyukjae’s face grows gentler, the almond in his eyes darker and his breaths shallow. He hasn’t seen the hesitance often, and it’s frightening, and it causes deep heartthrobs down on his chest. The seconds passing feel like forever, and he needs confirmation, some acceptance. He doesn’t expect Hyukaje to feel quite the same depth of emotion as he does. But he wants to show him; make him understand how much the growing pain of affection and love meant so much more than any fear ever could.

 

And it’s partly because he needs to start believing in it himself.

 

Hyukjae shifts, taking a wavering step closer. So close that Donghae feels the sparks which Hyukjae’s thigh brushing his own causes. The man’s eyes are lowered somewhere around Donghae’s lips, and the puffs of rapid breaths are already blending, lingering on their lips, and Donghae’s frozen, and he can’t think straight. But Hyukjae lifts his hand, and he can feel the subtle tremble of his fingers when they graze his temple, falling slowly along his cheekbone, down on his jaw, halting to a stop on his chin. 

 

And Hyukjae gazes at him, soft like velvet, and neither of them can breathe, the air is hitching at throats, the fingers on Donghae’s skin burning as if it’s the first time air reaches spark, breaking into fire, fire, fire.

 

Hyukjae opens his mouth to say something, a flick of a questions rolling on his tongue and in the light spots on his eyes, but then a phone starts ringing. The rings seem to boom louder and louder, and a fearful churn rolls inside Donghae’s stomach like a snake, but Hyukjae’s hand on Donghae’s chin doesn’t falter. With his other hand, Hyukjae pulls out the phone, taking a rushed glance of the caller before he puts it on his ear, leaving it hanging against his shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” he answers with a moody tone, a sharp gleam dashing over his eyes as he listens.

 

Donghae doesn’t move, when Hyukjae’s hand falls down on his neck. The phone call obviously irritates Hyukjae, the way it breaks the fragile moment, but the hand on his neck tells him another story. It’s Hyukjae’s way of saying that he’s sorry about it but he won’t let it ruin something that belonged only for them. Hyukjae’s answers are blunt and simple, and as his eyes tell there’s a moment where he just needs to listen the caller, Donghae sees the rebellion in his expression.

 

It’s just Hyukjae’s style to duck in an connect their lips in the middle of a call.

 

The thumb close to Donghae’s jawline draws small spots on his skin when the lips brush against each other for a second, a little hesitant but no short of confident, as if the thought of kissing Donghae is perfectly logical for Hyukjae, without any fear or prejudice. And it knocks the air out of Donghae’s lungs, because it’s a curious kiss, an honest kiss with their breaths dancing on their lips for a moment between when Hyukjae humms one last time for the phone before it’s dropped to the floor, and his other hand is finally free to fall on the small of Donghae’s back. To pull him closer.

 

Hyukjae tilts his head a bit to the side, and it’s impossible to keep the kiss from growing hungrier, as the brunet leans more into it, at last letting go of the barricade that’s been dominating him from just being himself with Hyukjae. And everything about it is freeing and liberating.

 

Loud beats of heart thunder inside Hyukjae’s head, as Donghae’s chest is pressed against his, and a light grip hangs from his shirt. It’s only lips and breaths mingling against each other, even when Donghae parts his own and there’s a slight graze of teeth. The ragged breaths makes his insides go haywire and his skin crawling in excitement he’s not felt before. He feels breathless; his stomach tossing and turning, and his whole body tingling erratically, when the tip of Donghae’s tongue skims over his lower lip. It makes him lean more into it, nibble back the plump of the other’s lip, gasping for air as he forgets to breathe from time to time.

 

And there’s an airy, a rare curse at him as Donghae feels like there’s fireworks lighting up inside, and it still hard to grasp to it’s really hapenning. That Hyukjae’s kissing him, on purpose, wanting it too.

 

“F-fuck.”

 

The continuous kiss is anything but the kisses Hyukjae’s had before; it’s light and at the same time, full of the emotions that have been haunting him for the last couple of weeks. There’s nothing similar to the way he’s ever kissed his one night stands, the ones that have been just passages to oblivion. The way Donghae kisses him back is addicting, enchanting, making him to want more of it the same way sleeping next to him or holding his hand causes an ache inside. An ache for not wanting lose him, and he doesn’t want Donghae to go, he wants him to stay in his life, with his daughter – all three of them.

 

Nothing’s ever caused him to want someone so much. Not for lust, not for pleasure, but for someone to be by his side, when he ends up struggling and stumbling, making mistakes and trying to right his wrongs.

 

Hyukjae doesn’t want it to end when Donghae’s hand climbs up to his hip, supportive. It’s everything he could ask for, and Hyukjae gives the other man a final peck on the lips, a tentative one, as his eyes open and his gaze comes back to focus. His face is flushed, the skin on his neck prickling, and Donghae’s already watching him peacefully. There’s a little curve at the edge of Donghae’s lips when their eyes marvel at each other, the emotions now ripped apart and wide open.

 

“I didn’t...” Hyukjae grunts, baffled and confused but thrilled as his tongue seems to knot up. “I didn’t expect it to feel so...”

 

Donghae’s gaze lowers, but his hands rise up to cling onto the front of Hyukjae’s shirt, humming, before he places his index finger on Hyukjae’s lips, shutting him up.

 

The wet touch of the other’s lips still flutter on Hyukjae’s own, and the scent he’s already gotten used to is now even more tangible, something he hasn’t paid much attention to before. The masculine trail is simultaneously cool and spicy, and he can’t get enough of it.

 

There’s a silence that’s filled with Hyukjae’s rare smile that’s a little sheepish and anxious, and although the kiss has managed to rise the energies up to the roof, it’s surprisingly laid-back atmosphere. A few things and questions pop up to the back of his mind, but Hyukjae only watches Donghae for a minute, who slowly backs against the opposite wall, crossing his arms over his chest. The posture isn’t reserved, the expression on the brunet’s face is not far from Hyukjae’s, and he ends up taking a deep breath.

 

The barricade, or a wall, whatever it used to be, isn’t there anymore. The air is fresh, loaded with something new.

 

Then, from his pheriperal vision, he notices a small figure strolling towards them.

 

Jaemin rubs her eye and tilts her head curiously as her father turns to look at her. She is a little tired, but Hyukjae hears the tv, and the characters of a show talking and the surroundings are suddenly very present to him. It doesn’t seem like she’s been sleeping at all, her cheeks aren’t red from falling asleep on the couch, and he wonders if Jaemin heard everything. A churn goes around his stomach, but the girl’s expression happens to calm the passing storm. She holds a thin box on her other hand, and rises it a bit in the air.

 

“Daddy, can we make this puzzle?” she ends up asking, and Hyukjae lets out a breath of relief.

 

It takes him a second to know how to speak again.

 

“S-sure.”

 

Jaemin nods as if she knew the answers all along. But then she purses her mouth, and raises and eyebrow at her father who’s about to take a step towards her.

 

“Is daddy gonna marry Donghae?”

 

His head goes blank, and his face turns white but his cheeks suddenly grow very, very red. He can’t even think about looking at Donghae now.

 

“W-why’d you say that?” he stammers.

 

“Because… Because daddy kiss him, and Donghae’s pretty and Donghae makes food?”

 

Hyukjae wants to hide somewhere. His daughter is way too observant for her own good. Cheeks burning and stomach swirling as if there’s a hurricane rummaging around, he finds the courage to peek at Donghae who bites his lips in a way that makes him want to kiss him again because it’s not just Hyukjae who’s getting red as a tomato.

 

“Ehh,” Hyukjae swallows, clasping his hands onto her shoulders and turning the girl towards the living room. “I’ll need to think about that.” He’s not sure what he’s saying, the words just escape his mouth. What’s he supposed to say anyway? The thought about marrying anyone makes his skin bristle. Especially Donghae.

 

“Let’s just do the puzzle first, okay?” he ends up pleading.

 

 

 

It’s been about fifteen minutes since Jaemin ended up blabbering about the kiss, and him and Donghae, and Donghae being pretty and being able to cook, causing Hyukjae to think about getting hitched, Donghae wearing a black suit or holding a ring.

 

It’s a little too much to think at this point.

 

But it’s not a lie that the thought is not entirely revolting.

 

It just scares the shit out of him.

 

But for his mental health’s sake, he’s glad that Donghae hasn’t mentioned it – let alone his daughter. He has enough to think about as it is. Like the fact that he’s quite sure that kissing Donghae is probably the best feeling he’s had in a while. It’s confusing, life-altering—it scares him too but at least it’s not something he wants to run away from.

 

And as he sits on the living room floor, Jaemin just around the coffee table and Donghae slouching on the couch behind his back, Hyukjae would’ve never think about enjoying it. Just a month ago, he would’ve laughed if someone told him he’d be sitting here with a four year old and a gay man who loves him. He would’ve grabbed another drink before he would’ve ended up in someone’s apartment he barely knew a name for.

 

He has to admit he’s starting to like this.

 

And as Jaemin muses which piece to take, Donghae finally says something. The voice makes Hyukjae’s stomach flutter, but he tries to ignore it.

 

“Who was it calling you, then—you know?”

 

He knows what Donghae’s hinting at, but he’s grateful that it’s not the main topic on Donghae’s mind. He absent-mindedly scratches his bare arm, before he replies, “Sora. You remember her, right?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Donghae mutters, biting his lip. “What did she want?”

 

“You didn’t hear?” Hyukjae gives him a look, eyebrow rising.

 

“I was a little distracted to pay enough attention to that.”

 

Hyukjae chuckles nervously, not trying to hide the curve on his lips when his head goes back to the moment of flutters and Donghae’s tongue sliding over his lip.

 

“Daddy, your turn,” Jaemin notes as it’s a little hard for her father to take his eyes off the brunet.

 

He searches for a piece that would fit into the puzzle, but he soon gazes back to the girl. “I can’t find one, can you?” Hyukjae inquires, obviously lying because the puzzle has about 48 pieces and he would have put it together in a minute if he had to, but he finds it paramount that Jaemin gets the most out of it.

 

Jaemin glares around the pieces scattered over the coffee table, and it takes just a few seconds for her to point out a piece. “Can’t you see?” she replies with a scowl. “I think you need glasses, daddy.”

 

The father has to bite down on his lips as Donghae leans against his shoulder when he hunches down from laughter.

 

“Touché,” Hyukjae chuckles under his breath, taking the piece and putting it into place. The girl gives the men a disapproving look, but Hyukjae feels really warm because she’s starting to have personality, obviously getting more comfortable and trusting every day she spends with her father.

 

“My turn,” she continues matter-of-factly, her attention falling back to the point.

 

Hyukjae watches Jaemin focus, but then he hears Donghae fiddling something as he calms down, and hears him muttering teasingly: “I wonder where she’s getting her wit from. She’s going to be handful when she gets older, if her parents are of any indication what’s she’s going to be like.”

 

Hyukjae glances over the girl again. It’s not easy to imagine the four year old growing up, and it makes his stomach churn uncontrollably as he tries to think about her going to school, learning how to read and then changing into a teenager who slams doors and who finds her father utterly embarrassing because he’s chasing every boy away when they dare to look at her way. The mere images scare the shit out of him, but it’s starting to sink in that it would be his future.

 

“Ugh,” he grunts, “I don’t want her to grow up.”

 

“Just wait when she gets comfortable enough to throw tantrums.”

 

Hyukjae turns towards Donghae who lies on the couch on his stomach. Crunching his nose up, Hyukjae makes a face, quietly hoping Donghae would be there with him when that happens. But the earlier conversation about Sora comes back to his mind. It has been a good while since he’s last seen his sister.

 

“Anyway, Sora called that she’s coming to Seoul soon.”

 

Donghae shifts, leaning his upper body to his arms, humming.

 

“She’ll call again later, when she knows the details,” Hyukjae mutters, fiddling one of the puzzle pieces on his fingers. “She wants to meet Jaemin.”

 

“She knows?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve texted her.” Hyukjae puts the last border piece on its place. Something builds up on his throat, when he continues, “And before she realized I was a little in the middle of something, she said that she’d like me to have dinner with her – and our parents.” Unconsciously, Hyukjae clenches his jaw. He hasn’t let the thought of it come through before, but it certainly makes him agitated now.

 

Donghae doesn’t say anything yet, so Hyukjae rambles on. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Why?” Donghae questions, but he realizes it sounds a little stupid, knowing what Hyukjae’s and his parents relationship has been for a while. “I mean, are you sure? It’s been—what, four years since you’ve seen them?”

 

“Yeah,” Hyukjae grumbles, but an afterthought comes. “Mom still calls on my birthdays and around Christmas, but it’s… I don’t know. There’s just going to be another shi—another storm when they hear I’m the one raising the kid.” He lifts his gaze up, looking for something from Donghae; support, maybe assurance that meeting his parents would be nothing short of disastrous.

 

Donghae gives the matter a lot of thought, but despite Hyukjae’s rather valid concern, he has to disagree.

 

“Well, they might not have forgiven everything, but what if there’s a chance for reconciliation? I mean, you’re still their child. They might not approve your lifestyle, but they must miss you.” The expression on his face is tender. He doesn’t want to push Hyukjae into it, because he knows Hyukjae doesn’t work like that. He wants him to decide for himself. Donghae purses his lips. “I bet they’d want to meet Jaemin too, eventually. And this whole thing—you standing up for the kid and keeping her—could actually make them see you in a different light. It says something about you, even if they’re not to see it immediately.”

 

Hyukjae muses the words around. Although he’s not entirely convinced, Donghae’s opinion matters to him.

 

“You must miss them too?” Donghae suggests, his voice causing shivers running down Hyukjae’s nape.

 

“Sometimes,” he answers, with a little hesitation, still fiddling one of the pieces.

 

Donghae sits up on the couch. “It might not be so bad, you know? And it’s their loss if they have a problem with you.”

 

Hyukjae humms as Donghae stands up and heads towards the kitchen as he mutters something about making up some dinner.

 

A loud sigh interrupts the flow of his thoughts.

 

“Daddy,” Jaemin announces, “Focus.”

 

He lifts his gaze up to the girl, who stares at him, disgruntled.

 

“Uh, sorry,” Hyukjae apologizes, hurrying to put the piece on its proper place, but Jaemin’s comment lights up his mood just enough. He can’t dare to wait what kind of a smartass she would become. And although his thoughts are a little all over the place, he can’t help but smile at his daughter, who disembles the puzzle the minute it’s ready, and she’s ready to do it all over again. He observes her for a few minutes, before the urge to go after Donghae grows too high.

 

“Kid,” he starts, “I’m going to go help Donghae with the food. You okay with that?”

 

“I’m okay,” she replies, the puzzle seemingly being more interesting to her than her father at the moment.

 

Since Jaemin interrupted them earlier, there hasn’t been an opportunity to talk about them; him and Donghae. Them—whatever that means.

 

 

 

Donghae has felt Hyukjae’s eyes on his back for a good while when he goes to open the fridge. He knows things aren’t clear yet, and although it’s all new and there’s nothing set on stone, a tiny bit of hope is sparking on his stomach.

 

There's finally a moment of quiet and still between them.

 

“So are we... What… What are we now?” Hyukjae admits the questions out loud, the curiosity killing him. He’s not sure if he’s ready for a relationship, but he knows, despite everything being all over the place, he knows it deep in the heart that he wants this. He needs Donghae’s annoyed nags, his laugh when his clothes change color in the washing machine, his steady breaths beside him when he’s about to fall asleep. He’s not really boyfriend material, but he thinks there’s a slight chance he could—that he could grow into that eventually. But it would include missteps, crossing boundaries, driving the younger crazy at times, failing at a lot of things.

 

Does Donghae want that? Is prepared to have someone like Hyukjae complicating his life?

 

“Because I like… I like you,” he goes on, scratching his neck, “But I’m not sure if I’m there yet? If you get what I mean? I mean, all my relationships before have kinda—“

 

Donghae snickers at him and his obscure rambling, but he does understand what Hyukjae is trying to say. He gets it that Hyukjae might not be ready for love, for him, a serious relationship. Not yet. And for once, he’s okay with that.

 

“What are you laughing at?”

 

The younger turns around, pouring some juice ready for the girl to have at dinner.

 

“Anxiety doesn’t suit you,” Donghae chuckles under his breath.

 

Hyukjae scoffs, crossing his arms. “That’s kinda rude when I’m just trying to get the hang of things.”

 

Donghae puts the juice back in the fridge, taking a breath before he leans against the counter, watching Hyukjae for a few passing seconds.

 

“We don’t need to be anything,” he starts with shrug. “You’re still figuring out your feelings, no? We can just… We don’t need to change anything. Let’s just… Just take it slow and see where it goes? Because there’s another human being involved, there’s enough variables in the mix already.”

 

Hyukjae isn’t sure if it makes sense, yet it kind of does, because Donghae is usually right.

 

“I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for.” There’s a hint of fear hidden in the words. “It’s not the same kissing a guy when you’re drunk and having fun than actually having a relationship with one. Because there will be people who won’t approve.”

 

“Are you trying to scare me off?” Hyukjae grunts, confused.

 

“No,” Donghae replies, a little apologetic. “It’s just… No one’s going to squint at you having a girlfriend. But a boyfriend? It’s just not the same. Someone’s ought to say hurtful things about it.”

 

“You’re such a pessimist.”

 

“I’m not a pessimist,” Donghae sighs, “I’m a realist. It is what it is. And it’s not going to be walkaway.”

 

Hyukjae bites the inside of his cheek as something chilly drifts inside.

 

Donghae notices it, and he seriously doesn’t want Hyukjae painting devils on the walls, so he takes a step closer. His hand falls next to Hyukjae’s on the countertop, but he doesn’t touch it. He gives him an understanding look, hoping the man would see that he actually cared about the stuff that doesn’t seem so terrifying yet. He wants him to know that he’s going to be there if things get rough, if he lets him.

 

“I don’t mind being just friends for now,” he murmures as reassurance.

 

Glancing at the hand placed beside his, Hyukjae smirks. “Does ‘just friends’ allow kissing and stuff? I already got a taste for it, so you think I’m able to stop now?”

 

Donghae rolls his eyes, turning his side for the other and pulling his hand away.

 

“Has your dictionary ever heard of ‘patience’?”

 

“Is that some kind of food?”

 

Donghae slaps the man’s arm, gritting his teeth as he holds the amusement at bay. “The fact that I,” he hesitates saying it, but he realizes it doesn’t make him feel so heavy anymore, “That I have feelings for you doesn’t mean that you have to overwork yourself. I can wait. I’ve already waited for five years, and I didn’t even dream of you liking me back.”

 

The smirk on Hyukjae’s face softens. It seems ridiculous that someone, anyone really, could’ve liked him for so long. Let alone loved. And he feels a little guilty about it. The fact that it had to be him Donghae fell in love with. And he realizes, that maybe it’s Donghae’s way of trying to say that he doesn’t want Hyukjae to break his heart. For once, he resonates with the fact. He doesn’t want to end up hurting the other in his own process.

 

“I’m okay being friends if that’s okay for you?” he ends up muttering, giving a glance from under his bronze fringe.

 

Donghae looks him in the eye. He seems to ponder it, but he nods.

 

“Just be honest with me if you change your mind.”

 

Hyukjae furrows. “Change my mind?”

 

A dark shadow builds up behind Donghae’s eyes, and it’s obvious to Hyukjae that he’s trying to keep it together.

 

“If I don’t end up being what you want. Just don’t leave me hanging.”

 

Clenching his jaw, Hyukjae has a sudden urge to kiss the man, but for once he knows it’s not the place or time for that. He doesn’t think it’s possible for him to start falling backwards with his feelings, but he admits that he’s known for being a bit of a whirlwind. He doesn’t judge Donghae being a little afraid of him.

 

“Yeah, I get the point,” he notes, voice lower, although it tugs his heart as he tries to focus on his boring fingernails. Donghae shifts beside him, changing the weight over to his other leg. “Day by day then?” He offers Donghae a smile, the anxious one that doesn’t suit him, but it’s impossible to try to hide it.

 

“Day by day,” Donghae casts a smile back.

 

He sighs a little in content, when Hyukjae moves right next to him, shoulders brushing onto each other. The spark in the air forces the gleam of hope to brighten up, even if it scares them both, but for now he just wants to enjoy the emotion and Hyukjae’s thoughtful gesture.

 

“So… Is patience some kind of pasta?” Hyukjae utters after a minute.

 

Donghae groans, walking up to the rice cooker clanging the orange light on that tells it being ready. After five years, he has to wonder why he’s fallen for a guy like Hyukjae.


End file.
